QUINTUS 
OAKES 


ROSS 
JACKSON 


QJJINTUS   OAKES 


Quintus  Oakes 

A  Detective  Story 


BY 
CHARLES    ROSS    JACKSON 

AUTHOR    OF  "THE    THIRD    DEGREE" 


G.  W.  DILLINGHAM    COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS  NEW   YORK 


COPYRIGHT,  1904,  BY 
G.  W.  DILLINGHAM  COMPANY 

[All  rights  reserved.] 


Quintus  Oakes  Issued  March, 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.  The  Rescue      ......          5 

II.  Quintus  Oakes  at  Home    .          .          .          .19 

III.  Oakes's  Experiences.          .          .          .  31 

IV.  The  Departure 41 

V.     The  Letter 50 

VI.     The  Murder 56 

VII.      The  Inquest 69 

VIII.      The  Mansion 89 

IX.  Distrust  and  Suspicion         .          .          .          .100 

X.     The  Cellar 108 

XI.  The  Night  Walk      .          .         .         .         .123 

XII.     The  Witness 141 

XIII.  The  Plan  of  Campaign       .          .          .          .148 

XIV.  Clues 159 

XV.     The  Ruse 171 

XVI.     The  Negro's  Story 191 

XVII.  Checkmated      ......      209 

XVIII.  Misadventures  .          .          .          .          .          .221 

XIX.  A  Faulty  Story          .....     240 

XX.  A  Man's  Confession           .          .          .          .      253 

XXI.      The  Attack 267 

XXII.  The  Insane  Root       .          .          .          .          .278 

XXIII.  The  Test 287 

XXIV.  Across  the  Bridge 298 

XXV.  The  Man  of  the  Hour      .         .         .         .311 


2136487 


QUINTUS    OAKES 

CHAPTER  I 

The  Rescue 

It  was  a  warm  summer  evening;  the  air  was  stifling 
and  still.  I,  Rodney  Stone,  attorney-at-law,  left  my 
apartment  to  stroll  along  Broadway,  seeking  a  roof 
garden  wherein  to  spend  a  few  hours  of  change  from 
the  atmosphere  of  the  pavements,  and  to  kill  the 
ennui  that  comes  to  all  of  us  whom  business  compels 
to  accept  such  circumstances. 

As  I  walked  down  a  side  street,  I  noticed  ahead  of 
me  a  colored  man  rush  out  from  an  apartment  house, 
shouting  something  that  I  did  not  understand.  His 
actions  seemed  peculiar  for  a  moment,  but  a  curl  of 
smoke  from  one  of  the  third-story  windows  made 
known  the  cause.  It  was  fire.  I  found  myself  among 
the  first  to  reach  the  spot.  From  Broadway  a  crowd 
was  coming,  such  as  collects  readily  under  these  cir- 
cumstances. I  was  soon  mingling  with  it,  watching 


6  Quintus  Oakes 

the  police  in  their  endeavors  to  rouse  the  tenants 
and  to  spread  the  alarm  on  all  the  floors.  The 
numerous  dwellers  were  soon  rushing  out,  and  I  saw 
several  deeds  deserving  of  mention.  As  the  crowd 
looked  up  at  the  apartment  in  which  the  flames  were 
showing  and  from  which  smoke  was  pouring,  a 
window  was  raised — evidently  in  a  separate  room — 
and  a  young  girl  appeared  standing  at  the  sill.  The 
effort  of  raising  the  sash  had  been  a  severe  one  for 
her,  for  she  was  not  over  ten.  Looking  back  into 
the  room,  she  saw  the  smoke  filling  it,  and  quickly 
scrambled  out  on  the  window  frame.  The  engines 
had  not  yet  arrived,  but  I  could  hear  them  shrieking 
in  the  distance,  and  we  all  knew  that  help  was  com- 
ing. 

"  Don't  jump !  Don't  jump !  "  was  the  cry  from 
us  all.  I  advanced  instinctively,  as  did  many,  to  be 
nearer,  for  we  saw  that  fear  had  taken  possession 
of  the  child  and  that  she  seemed  about  to  slide  out- 
ward and  drop — to  almost  certain  disaster. 

A  tall,  handsome,  well-built  man  in  the  crowd 
behind  us  spoke  in  a  voice  of  confidence  and  assur- 
ance. 


The  Rescue 


"  Hold  tight,  little  girl.    You're  all  right !  " 

I  noticed  that  he  was  breathing  hard;  he  had  just 
arrived  in  haste. 

Even  as  he  spoke,  the  little  one's  head  moved  from 
one  side  to  the  other,  and  she  seemed  in  distress. 
Then  something  like  an  avalanche  came  from  back 
of  me,  tearing  the  crowd  asunder.  A  hand  fell  upon 
my  shoulder,  and  I  reeled  to  one  side  as  the  tall 
stranger  sprang  forward,  saying :  "  She  is  going  to 
faint."  Quick  wit  and  quick  eye  had  detected  what 
none  other  realized,  that  nature  was  being  overcome 
and  that  the  fall  was  inevitable. 

The  limp  little  body  slid  a  second,  then  pitched 
forward.  A  groan  went  up  at  what  seemed  sure 
death.  But  the  stranger's  rush  was  timed  to  the  in- 
stant, and  as  the  child's  body  curved  head  down- 
ward in  its  flight,  his  strong  figure  reached  the  spot 
and  his  arms  caught  the  child.  The  man  braced  as 
they  swung  downward  to  his  side,  depositing  the  un- 
conscious girl  in  my  hands  and  those  of  a  policeman. 
She  did  not  touch  the  sidewalk,  but  the  young  giant 
came  to  his  knees  by  the  force  of  the  impact.  It 
was  a  marvellous  piece  of  work  and  the  crowd 


8  Quintus  Oakes 


cheered  and  closed  in  upon  the  rescuer  and  our 
burden.  The  child  was  taken  away  by  those  who 
had  escaped.  Then  all  hands  looked  at  the  man, 
and  somebody  started  to  speak  to  him,  and  to  ask 
him  his  name. 

He  turned  to  me.  "  Sorry  to  have  smashed  into 
you  that  way,  sir,"  he  said.  I  answered,  saying 
something  about  I  was  glad  he  did — and  upon  look- 
ing up,  I  saw  he  was  gone.  We  watched  him,  and 
saw  him  turn  into  Broadway,  bound  on  avoiding 
further  notice. 

"  Who  was  he  ?  "  cried  many. 

A  thick-set,  tough-looking  character  spoke  up: 

"  Oh,  he's  de  gazabo  wot  did  the  turn  on  de " 

At  this  instant  a  policeman  pushed  toward  us,  and, 
shoving  a  club  into  the  fellow's  ribs,  shouted :  "  Come, 
now,  get  out  o'  this,  or  I'll " 

The  fellow  was  off,  and  with  him  our  chance  of 
identifying  the  stranger  vanished.  The  police  had 
been  too  busy  with  other  matters  to  secure  his 
name.  Another  good  act  to  be  credited  to  an  un- 
known ! 

The  fire  was  soon  under  control  and  I  renewed  my 


The  Rescue  9 

walk,  emerging  on  Broadway  as  the  shadows  of  night 
were  coming  on,  and  the  street  was  awakening  to  its 
characteristic  summer  life. 

Suddenly  I  saw  him — the  identical  man — walking 
across  the  thoroughfare.  I  quickened  my  pace,  al- 
though going  rapidly  at  the  time.  It  was  my  inten- 
tion to  get  closer  to  him  and  notice  him  better,  as  I 
was  interested.  He  turned  up-town,  and  I  saw  that, 
although  he  was  walking  easily,  his  pace  was  quicker 
than  mine.  What  impressed  me  more  than  anything 
else  was  his  graceful  carriage  and  the  fine  cut  of  his 
clothes.  He  was  dressed  in  a  dark  suit  without 
waistcoat,  and  one  of  those  soft,  white  summer  shirts 
which  have  become  popular  of  late  years.  On  his 
head  was  a  plain  but  expensive  Panama.  As  he 
passed  up  the  street  ahead  of  me,  gaining  all  the 
while  with  his  easy  stride,  he  saluted  a  few  gentle- 
men, and  the  policemen  seemed  to  know  him.  He 
evidently  was  a  striking  figure  to  other  eyes  than 
mine,  for  I  noticed  several  men  stop  and  half  turn 
to  look  after  him — a  thing  that  one  sees  on  Broad- 
way but  seldom.  He  turned  into  a  side  street,  and 
again  I  lost  him.  I  fancied  he  disappeared  into 


10  Quintus  Oakes 

one  of  the  bachelor  apartment  houses  of  that 
section. 

During  the  rest  of  the  evening  I  regretted  not 
having  made  stronger  efforts  to  learn  his  name ;  then 
I  laughed  at  myself  for  being  so  impressed  by  a 
stranger's  appearance.  The  fact  was,  that  the  man's 
action  and  personality  had  affected  me  so  strongly 
that  for  days  I  frequently  found  myself  thinking  of 
the  fire  and  the  rescue.  I  often  looked  along  the 
street  when  walking,  in  a  vague  hope  of  seeing  the 
handsome,  clear-cut  face  of  the  man  who  had  acted 
so  promptly,  but  so  unostentatiously. 

Little  did  I  then  know  how  great  a  factor  that 
man  was  to  be  in  the  moulding  of  my  future — how 
circumstances  were  shaping,  to  link  his  active  nature 
with  my  career,  and  to  lead  me  into  one  of  the  most 
peculiar  experiences  that  ever  came  to  any  one. 

Over  a  month  passed,  and  the  first  signs  of  fall 
were  upon  us.  The  streets  were  assuming  the  ap- 
pearance of  activity,  and  familiar  faces  reappeared 
in  the  public  places,  all  invigorated  and  refreshed 
by  the  summer's  outings. 

Early  in  October  I  found  myself  with  my  friend, 


The  Rescue  11 


Dr.  Moore,  a  well-known  physician,  standing  in  one 
of  the  popular  theatres.  We  had  dropped  in  for 
one  act  or  so,  and,  like  many  others,  were  unable  to 
secure  seats  owing  to  the  hour  and  the  popularity 
of  the  play.  At  first,  engrossed  with  the  perform- 
ance, we  paid  no  attention  to  the  audience ;  but  when 
the  act  closed  and  the  lights  were  turned  up,  we 
glanced  around  as  we  prepared  to  leave  for  a  stroll. 
My  attention  was  called  to  some  ladies  in  one  of 
the  lower  boxes — two  fair-haired  and  strikingly 
attractive  young  women,  and  an  older  one,  evidently 
a  relative,  for  there  was  a  resemblance  in  features 
that  was  noticeable.  The  younger  ones  were  cer- 
tainly sisters;  their  similarity  of  complexion,  face 
and  figure  rendered  such  an  assumption  a  certainty. 

My  friend  noticed  them,  and  a  change  came  over 
his  face;  he  began  to  beam  as  one  does  who  has  seen 
a  friend.  We  were  far  off,  and  in  a  position  where 
we  could  admire,  without  impoliteness. 

"  Those  are  charming  ladies,"  I  said.  "  You  seem 
to  know  them,  Moore  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  have  not  seen  them  for  quite  a  while ; 
they  are  old  patients  of  mine.  Do  you  see  any  one 


12  Quintus  Oakes 

with  them?  If  I  mistake  not,  he  is  somewhere  in 
the  box,"  continued  Moore.  ' 

"  He !  "  "  Who  ?  "  As  I  spoke  I  noticed  a  gentle- 
man— a  tall,  clear-cut  fellow — lean  forward  and 
speak  to  one  of  the  sisters.  As  he  moved,  his  face 
came  full  in  the  light  and  I  recognized  him. 

"  It's  he !  "  I  cried.     "  I've  found  him  at  last !  " 

"  Found  whom  ?  "  exclaimed  Moore. 

"  Him,  that  man !  " 

"  Great  Scott !  "  said  Moore,  "  you  must  be  sick. 
What  ails  you,  anyway?  Have  you  been  dining  at 
the  Club?" 

I  turned  to  my  friend  and  said :  "  Doctor,  I've 
found  him  at  last — that  man  in  the  box." 

"  Well,  did  not  I  tell  you  he  ought  to  be  there  ? " 
said  Moore.  "  Because  you  found  him,  do  you 
think  you  have  accomplished  a  wonderful  piece  of 
work?  Of  course  he  was  there." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  Whom  are  you  talking 
about,  anyway  ? "  I  asked. 

Doctor  Moore  looked  at  me  as  though  wondering 
if  I  were  in  my  right  mind,  then  said :  "  Stone,  I  am 
talking  about  the  gentleman  in  the  box;  I  said  he 


The  Rescue  13 


should  be  there;  he  usually  is  with  those  ladies." 

"  Yes,"  I  replied,  "  it  is  he !  " 

"  Stone,  what's  the  matter  ?  Come  and  take  some- 
thing, old  man  " — and  seizing  me  by  the  arm,  my 
companion  led  me  away  to  the  nearest  cafe,  where 
he  watched  me  closely  as  he  poured  out  a  bracer. 

I  seized  it  and  said :  "  Here's  to  the  man  in  the 
box!  I've  found  him." 

"  Of  course  you  found  him,  old  man.  I  don't  see 
what  you  are  making  such  a  fuss  over  that  fact  for ; 
it's  not  a  question  of  priority." 

"  No,"  I  said,  "  it's  a  question  of  identity." 

"  Explain." 

"  Well,  I  want  to  know  who  he  is.  He  has 
worried  my  mind  for  a  month." 

"  Oh,  is  that  all  ? "  and  Moore  heaved  a  sigh  of 
relief;  he  had  been  genuinely  anxious  about  me, 
that  was  plain. 

"  Have  you  run  up  against  him  anywhere  ? "  he 
asked. 

"  No,  he  ran  up  against  me,"  I  answered. 

"  Here,  sit  down,"  said  Moore.  "  What,  in 
heaven's  name,  has  got  into  you  ? " 


14  Quintus  Oakes 

"  Nothing.  Only  I  desire  to  know  that  man's 
name.  I  have  had  an  experience  with  him." 

"Indeed!  You're  not  the  first,  then;  have  you 
been  up  to  anything  shady,  Stone  ? "  said  Moore, 
laughingly. 

"  No,  only  smoky — a  fire.      This  man    saved  a  • 
child's  life  in  a  magnificent  manner.      What's  his 
name  ? " 

"  Oh !  I  see.  His  name  is  Oakes.  You  should 
know  that.  He  left  college  just  a  year  or  so  after 
you  and  I  entered.  Don't  you  remember  the  fellow 
who  saved  those  boys  from  drowning  in  the  harbor 
that  day?" 

"  You  don't  tell  me !  Is  that  Quintus  Oakee  ?  I 
never  met  him,  but  of  course  I  knew  him;  everybody 
at  college  did,  after  that." 

"  Yes,  that's  the  same  fellow." 

"  Well,  I  certainly  did  not  recognize  his  face. 
Only  saw  it  a  moment,  but  there  was  something 
about  him  that  seemed  familiar — that  walk  of 
his — I  remember  it  now." 

As  the  memories  of  youth  crowded  upon  me  I 
recalled  him  well,  and  realized  that  the  years  had 


The  Rescue  15 


filled  out  his  figure  and  face;  but  it  was  the  same 
man,  the  same  walk  and  carriage — I  had  seen  them 
hundreds  of  times.  The  quick,  easy  stride,  erect 
figure  and  commanding  bearing  that  had  marked 
him  so  in  his  youth  were  as  noticeable  now,  in  his 
full  manhood,  as  in  those  years  of  the  long  ago. 

My  companion  and  I  did  not  return  for  the  last 
act  of  the  play,  but  strolled  out  in  the  street,  where 
I  told  him  of  the  episode  of  the  fire  and  the  part 
that  Oakes  had  played  in  it 

"  His  actions,  both  at  the  time  and  afterwards 
when  he  tried  to  avoid  notice,  are  characteristic," 
said  Moore.  "  He  is  reputed  as  doing  things  vigor- 
ously and  opportunely.  His  presence  of  mind  is 
marvellous,  I  am  told.  You  remember,  he  had  that 
gift  years  back  in  college.  Now,  it  seems  to  have 
developed  greatly,  until  everybody  who  knows  him 
well  speaks  of  it." 

"  Are  you  well  acquainted  with  him  ?  You  seem 
to  know  all  about  him." 

"  Yes,  indeed,"  answered  my  friend.  I  met  him 
one  night  several  years  back,  and  I  became  so  at- 
tracted to  him  that  I  cultivated  his  acquaintance 
wherever  possible." 


16  Quintus  Oakes 

"  Then  you  will  understand  how  I  was  glad  to 
identify  him,"  was  my  rejoinder. 

"  Yes,  indeed;  if  you  like,  you  can  easily  manage 
to  meet  him." 

I  expressed  my  earnest  desire,  and  Dr.  Moore 
promised  to  arrange  it  so  that  we  could  meet  some 
evening  at  the  Club. 

"  By  the  way,"  said  my  companion,  "  he  is  prob- 
ably the  best  informed,  all-round  man  you  have  ever 
met.  He  did  not  cease  learning  at  college." 

"  Lucky  for  him,"  I  exclaimed  laughingly. 

"  Well,  don't  be  surprised  if  he  starts  in  to  discuss 
law  with  you,  and  holds  you  up  at  your  own  proies- 
sion ;  he  is  a  surprise  party,  sometimes." 

"  All  right,  but  what  is  his  business  ? " 

Moore  looked  at  me,  and  said :  "  He  is  one  of  the 
most  original  detectives  in  the  country." 

"  Oh,  a  detective.  Along  what  lines  ?  He  surely 
is  no  ordinary  one  at  that  business." 

"  No.  He  used  to  work  alone  on  unusual  occur- 
rences, but  his  success  was  so  great  that  now  he  has 
a  large  number  of  subordinates  who  do  the  ordinary 
details,  and  he  limits  his  work  to  the  important  points 


The  Rescue  17 


on  select  cases.  He  is  not  heard  of  miwh,  and  is 
seen  very  little,  but  his  work  is  in  great  demand." 

I  was  interested,  and  asked  if  he  had  ever  done 
any  special  work  of  prominence. 

"  Yes,"  said  Moore.  "  He  solved  the  matter  of 
the  '  Red  Rose  of  Trieste.'  Do  you  remember  hear- 
ing of  that?" 

I  exclaimed  in  amazement :  "  He !  Is  he  the  man 
who  solved  that  affair?  You  must  be  mistaken. 
That  occurred,  or  began,  in  Europe." 

"  Exactly,"  said  Moore.  "  Quintus  Oakes  works 
there,  as  well  as  here.  He  speaks  German,  French, 
Italian,  and  perhaps  more  languages,  fluently,  and 
can  secure  evidence  anywhere.  He  has  travelled 
over  the  world  several  times.  One  year  he  was 
away  ten  months  on  a  case,  and  secured  the  neces- 
sary evidence  for  conviction  in  Sydney." 

"  I  see.  He  is  something  decidedly  out  of  the 
ordinary,  as  his  appearance  suggests." 

"  He  is  on  a  new  case  just  now,  and  he  has  prom- 
ised to  let  me  go,  if  I  want  to.  It's  a  very  short 
affair,  and  perhaps  I  will  take  a  vacation  that  way. 
I  have  not  been  away  yet  this  year,"  continued 
Moore. 


18  Quintus  Oakes 

We  now  parted  for  the  evening,  and  as  he  started 
to  go,  I  called  out  after  him :  "  Say,  Moore,  get  me 
into  it,  if  it's  exciting.  I  have  had  no  vacation  yet 
myself.  Introduce  me  to  Mr.  Oakes  as  soon  as  you 
can,  anyway." 

"  All  right.  I'll  arrange  for  a  night  at  the  Club, 
provided  Oakes  is  not  too  busy." 

I  returned  to  my  rooms,  little  knowing  how  things 
were  shaping,  from  an  entirely  independent  direc- 
tion, to  throw  me,  willingly  I  confess,  for  a  few 
brief  weeks  into  a  vortex  of  turmoil,  to  fight  through 
it  side  by  side  with  my  friend  Moore  and  vigorous, 
cool,  quick-witted  Quintus  Oakes. 


CHAPTER  II 

Quintus  Oakes  at  Home 

It  was,  therefore,  a  great  deal  in  the  nature  of  a 
surprise  when,  a  few  days  after  parting  with  Moore, 
I  received  a  note  at  my  apartments  by  messenger 
requesting  me  to  call  on  Mr.  Quintus  Oakes  that 
evening  on  professional  business.  It  was  written  in 
a  brisk,  courteous  style,  but  made  no  mention  of 
Dr.  Moore.  Was  it  possible  that  I  was  to  meet  Oakes 
through  other  channels?  I  realized  that  my  pro- 
fession of  the  law  might  give  many  opportunities  for 
such  an  interview  with  him,  so  I  ceased  to  wonder, 
and  started  up  Broadway  just  before  the  hour  ap- 
pointed. I  turned  into  the  long,  dimly  lighted  side 
street  near  Long  Acre  Square,  and  found  that  the 
number  designated  was  a  bachelor  apartment  house. 
It  was  where  I  had  lost  him  the  day  of  the  fire. 

Taking  the  elevator  to  the  third  floor,  I  was 
directed  to  the  door  and  admitted  by  a  Japanese 


20  Quintus  Oakes 

servant,  a  bright-eyed  fellow  of  about  twenty.  He 
was  dressed  in  our  fashion  and  spoke  English  well — 
the  kind  of  a  chap  that  one  sees  not  infrequently 
nowadays  in  the  service  of  men  who  have  seen  the 
world,  know  how  to  live,  and  how  to  choose  for  per- 
sonal comfort.  It  was  evident  that  I  was  expected, 
for  I  was  at  once  led  into  the  front  room  and  there 
met  by  Oakes  himself.  The  instant  he  saw  me,  a 
look  of  recognition  and  mild  surprise  came  over  his 
face,  and  as  he  shook  hands  he  said :  "  We  have  met 
before,  at  the  fire  the  other  day,  Mr.  Stone !  Won't 
you  please  step  into  my  sanctum?  We  can  be  more 
comfortable  there." 

He  led  me  through  a  short  hall,  into  a  large  airy 
room,  furnished  as  half-lounging  room,  half  office. 
There  was  a  large  flat-top  mahogany  desk  in  the 
centre,  with  a  sofa  and  several  upholstered  chairs, 
evidently  for  use  as  well  as  ornament.  On  the  walls 
were  pictures  of  value,  views  of  foreign  places,  and 
oil  paintings  that  a  mere  novice  could  see  were  works 
of  art.  There  was  that  in  the  room  which  suggested 
education  and  refinement. 

A  telephone  was  on  the  desk,  and  loose  papers 


Quintus  Oakes  at  Home  21 

partly  written  upon  bore  evidence  that  the  detective 
had  been  busy  at  work  when  I  arrived. 

At  a  motion  from  my  host  I  seated  myself  in  one 
of  the  large  arm  chairs  facing  him,  while  he  re- 
mained standing. 

I  saw  that  he  was  a  man  about  thirty-eight  or 
forty  years  old,  straight  as  an  arrow  and  splendidly 
proportioned.  He  was  dressed  in  a  well-fitting  gray 
suit. 

The  light  was  from  above,  and  Oakes's  face  showed 
well — the  clear-cut  nose  and  generous  mouth  of  the 
energetic  American. 

He  looked  at  me  critically  with  deep-set,  steady 
blue  eyes,  then  smiled  slightly  in  a  well-controlled, 
dignified  manner. 

"  Mr.  Stone,  I  am  very  glad  that  you  were  able 
to  come  to-night.  Make  yourself  at  home,"  he  said. 

I  made  an  appropriate  answer  of  some  kind,  and 
then  Oakes  took  the  seat  near  me  and  began,  without 
further  ceremony: 

"  I  have  arranged  that  our  friend  Dr.  Moore  shall 
come  here  this  evening;  meanwhile,  I  will  inform 
you  briefly  of  the  subject  in  hand." 


22  Quintus  Oakes 

"  A  few  months  ago  Mandel  &  Sturgeon  the 
attorneys,  whom  you  doubtless  know,  consulted  me 
regarding  the  unpleasant  happenings  at  the  mansion 
of  one  Odell  Mark,  up-State,  in  the  town  of  Mona. 

"  Now,  Mandel  &  Sturgeon  suggested,  also,  that 
you  might  care  to  help  unravel  the  matter,  acting  as 
their  legal  representative. 

"  I  have  completed  my  arrangements  for  starting 
on  the  case,  and  am  particularly  glad  to  find  that 
you  are  a  friend  of  Dr.  Moore  and  that  you  had 
expressed  to  him  a  desire  to  enter  into  some  such 
affair.  I  assure  you,  however,  that  Mandel  & 
Sturgeon  had  previously  spoken  of  you  and  that  this 
offer  was  coming  as  a  business  proposition.  The 
fact  that  you  and  Dr.  Moore  had  spoken  of  such  a 
trip  is  merely  a  coincidence." 

He  spoke  with  a  well-modulated  voice,  and  a 
fluency  that  told  of  the  intelligence  of  the  man.  His 
eyes  fixed  me,  but  not  in  an  embarrassing  manner; 
it  was  the  habit  of  observation  that  prompted  their 
concentration — that  was  obvious. 

His  forehead  was  high  and  slightly  furrowed  with 
two  vertical  wrinkles  between  the  eyebrows.  His 


Quintus  Oakes  at  Home  23 

face  was  mobile  and  expressive  at  times,  then  sud- 
denly calm.  In  my  very  brief  observation  I  knew 
that  he  was  able  to  govern  its  expression  well. 

In  the  days  that  were  coming,  I  learned  that  in 
the  presence  of  danger  or  possible  trickery  that 
face  became  stony  and  immovable,  a  mask  that 
talked  and  commanded,  while  hiding  the  suppressed 
energy  of  the  man. 

The  bell  rang  before  Oakes  could  proceed  with  his 
statement,  and  Dr.  Moore  was  shown  in.  His  com- 
ing enlivened  us  both,  and  after  a  few  words  of 
greeting  I  found  the  opportunity,  and  said : 

l(  Mr.  Oakes,  it  is  not  exactly  clear  to  me  why 
Mandel  &  Sturgeon  recommended  me  as  their 
representative.  They  have  so  many  men  in  their 
office  whom  they  might  use  in  that  capacity." 

"  Doubtless  you  will  hear  from  them  yourself 
before  we  go,  Mr.  Stone.  Meantime,  I  may  explain. 
You  were  in  their  employ  at  one  time,  I  believe  ?  " 

"  Yes,  a  great  many  years  ago." 

"  They  think  that  some  legal  matters  might  arise, 
where  a  man  on  the  spot  would  be  of  value,  and  it 
seems  best  that  their  representative  with  me  should 


24  Quintus  Oakes 


be  one  not  easily  identified  as  working  with  them. 
You  know,  Mr.  Stone,  we  are  not  advertising  our 
mission." 

"  I  have  been  in  Mona  as  Mr.  Clark,  their  agent, 
looking  after  the  Mansion  and  other  property,  and 
if  I  return  there,  it  must  be  under  some  business 
pretext,  or  people  will  suspect  me.  You,  being  an 
independent  party,  not  known  as  connected  with 
the  firm  in  any  way,  can  accompany  me  in  the  role 
of  a  friend  on  an  outing,  or  as  a  possible  purchaser. 
You  see,  we  are  trying  to  solve  a  mystery,  so  the 
less  attention  we  attract  the  better." 

"  I  see.  So  you  have  been  there  already,  Mr. 
Oakes?" 

"  Yes,  gentlemen.  I  will  tell  you  about  this  affair 
very  briefly  now.  You  will  learn  more  later,  if  you 
enter  upon  its  solution  with  me. 

"  The  Mansion  was  originally  the  property  of 
George  Mark,  who  died  some  years  ago,  leaving  it 
to  his  two  sons,  Winthrop  and  Odell.  Both  were 
single  men  at  that  time,  but  Odell  married  a  couple 
of  years  ago  and  persuaded  his  brother  to  sell  his 
share  of  the  property  to  him.  Winthrop,  who  was 


Quintus  Oakes  at  Home  25 

the  older,  did  not  care  to  part  with  it,  but  finally 
disposed  of  his  interest  to  his  brother,  who  immedi- 
ately moved  into  the  place  with  his  bride.  The  old 
servants  were  still  in  charge,  and  everything  had 
been  kept  up  to  a  high  standard  of  excellence,  al- 
though no  one  had  lived  there  since  the  old  man 
died. 

"  Odell  had  travelled  some,  and  lived  mostly  in 
the  city,  while  Winthrop  had  been  engrossed  in 
amassing  a  large  fortune  in  speculation.  He  had 
resided  in  Mona,  keeping  his  own  place,  saying  he 
did  not  care  for  the  Mansion  as  a  home  after  his 
father  died." 

"  Then  why  did  he  not  care  to  give  up  his  interest 
to  his  brother  ? "  asked  Moore. 

"  That  is  as  yet  a  mystery.  But,  as  he  was  a  great 
business  man,  it  is  supposed  by  some  that  he  saw 
opportunities  to  convert  the  vast  grounds  into  town 
lots,  and  sell  at  a  great  advance  some  day  when 
Mona  should  boom,  as  the  town  will  sooner  or  later, 
owing  to  its  natural  advantages-  He  told  many, 
however,  that  it  was  merely  a  sentiment  with  him, 
the  place  having  belonged  in  Colonial  times  to  the 


26  Quintus  Oakes 


family.  Be  that  as  it  may,  however,  he  finally  sold, 
and  never  would  buy  it  back  again,  even  after  the 
mystery  had  made  it  practically  valueless. 

"  His  brother  offered  to  sell  it  back  for  next  to 
nothing,  but  Winthrop  only  laughed,  and  refused. 
This  conduct  seemed  to  dispose  of  the  supposition 
that  he  was  in  any  way  responsible  for  the  occur- 
rences there  which  had  such  a  depressing  effect  in 
the  value  of  the  property." 

"  Then,  if  mixed  up,  he  had  a  deeper  motive," 
said  I. 

"  Yes — if  he  has  really  been  involved  in  the 
mystery  at  all.  You  must  remember,  however,"  said 
Oakes,  "  that  his  story  may  be  true.  Having  dis- 
posed of  his  share  of  the  property,  he  may  have  seen 
no  reason  for  bothering  with  it  again,  at  least  until 
it  was  clear  of  the  depressing  occurrences  which  had 
lowered  its  value  from  half  a  million  to  practically 
nothing." 

"  Goodness !  What  were  these  mysteries  ?  "  said 
Moore,  with  a  feigned  shudder.  "  Evidently,  they 
are  unpopular." 

Oakes  proceeded  slowly. 


Quintus  Oakes  at  Home  27 

"  They  consist  of  a  series  of  assaults  on  those  who 
have  occupied  the  house,  and  they  are  conducted  in 
such  a  way  that  detection  has  been  impossible. 

"  One  evening  Mrs.  Mark  was  heard  to  shriek  in 
her  bedroom,  and  when  found  by  her  husband  was 
insane  from  fright.  In  her  ravings  she  spoke  of 
a  terrible  thing  choking  her,  and  of  a  swishing 
sound.  She  never  regained  her  reason,  and  is  now 
in  an  insane  asylum.  Alienists  at  first  thought  that 
she  had  an  experience  common  to  those  going  mad 
— that  she  had  been  subject  to  a  delusion.  But  evi- 
dences were  against  this,  as  she  had  in  no  way  shown 
any  signs  of  mental  trouble  before.  While  she  was 
being  cared  for  at  the  Mansion,  the  two  nurses  in 
charge  had  similar  experiences.  They  reported 
hearing  a  tread  on  the  stairs  one  night  and  of  seeing 
a  figure  disappear  into  the  dining-room.  One  stated 
up  and  down  that  it  was  a  woman. 

"  The  patient  was  removed  from  the  place.  Then 
Mr.  Odell  Mark  received  such  a  scare  one  night  that 
he  packed  up  and  left  the  Mansion  for  good.  He 
was  assaulted  by  an  invisible  party  from  behind,  and 
only  escaped  after  a  severe  struggle.  Whoever,  or 


28  Quintiis  Oakes 


whatever,  assaulted  him  disappeared  in  an  instant, 
and  he  swore  that  he  heard  the  closing  of  a  door 
somewhere  downstairs. 

"  Everything  was  done  to  keep  the  truth  quiet, 
but  of  course  it  leaked  out  and  the  place  has  been 
regarded  as  haunted  ever  since.  The  servants  left, 
save  a  few  of  the  oldest,  who  live  away  from  the 
Mansion  under  a  separate  roof,  and  have  never  seen 
anything  unusual." 

"  That  sounds  very  thrilling,"  I  said ;  "  but  the 
affair  may  all  be  founded  on  nervous  dread  and 
hysteria." 

"  So  I  thought,"  said  Oakes.  "  I  went  up  there 
alone  recently,  however,  and  am  glad  to  say  that  I 
got  back  alive." 

"What!  Did  you  see  it?" 

"  No,  gentlemen,  I  did  not  There  was  nothing 
to  see;  but  I  learned  enough  to  know  that  murder 
stalks  there  in  the  Mansion — that  the  mystery  is  a 
deep  one,  and  my  conduct  nearly  cost  me  my  life. 

"  I  have  faced  danger  often,  but  I  never  faced  an 
invisible  violence,  or  had  such  a  fight  for  my  life 
as  I  had  at  the  Mansion  about  three  weeks  ago." 


Quintus  Oakes  at  Home  29 

Quintus  Oakes  was  speaking  earnestly,  and  we 
both  were  deeply  interested.  That  the  celebrated 
detective  should  have  met  such  an  experience  placed 
the  tale  outside  the  realm  of  fiction.  He  was  a  calm 
man,  used  to  facing  danger,  and  not  one  to  be  easily 
deceived  or  frightened. 

"  Great  Scott !  "  said  Moore,  "  you  must  have  had 
a  fine  time.  Tell  us  about  it.  It  must  have  been 
what  the  boys  call  a  *  lalapazooza  '  of  a  time." 

I  had  to  smile  at  my  friend,  able  and  successful, 
and  already  a  professional  man  of  reputation,  but 
ever  fond  of  an  occasional  slang  expression  as  a 
relief  from  the  care  with  which  he  was  usually 
burdened.  He  was  well  to  do,  but  had  been  no  idler, 
and  knew  the  meaning  of  hard  work. 

"  Yes,"  said  Oakes,  "  I  had  a  fine  time." 

At  this  moment  the  telephone  on  the  desk  rang, 
and  Oakes  reached  forward  and  placed  the  receiver 
to  his  ear.  After  a  few  words  of  business  he  re- 
placed it,  but  I  felt  a  curious  sensation  of  something 
missing,  something  unusual. 

His  hand  had  shot  forward  toward  the  hook  and 
deposited  the  receiver  thereon  in  one  quick,  instan- 


30  Quintus  Oakes 

taneous  movement.  The  action  had  been  so  exact 
that  the  contact  had  given  rise  to  no  sound  save  the 
after-tinkle  of  the  bell.  Moore  noticed  it  too,  and 
looked  at  me,  as  much  as  to  say :  "  How  was  that, 
for  measuring  distance?" 

Then  Oakes  wheeled  so  as  to  face  us  again. 

"  Excuse  me  for  the  interruption.  Now  I  will  tell 
you  my  story  in  a  few  words." 


CHAPTER  III 

Oakes's  Experience 

Oakes  began: 

"  Mandel  &  Sturgeon  gave  me  a  letter  to  the 
chief  care-taker,  Cook,  and  I  went  to  Mona  as  Clark, 
their  agent,  giving  as  an  excuse  for  my  presence 
there  that  Mr.  Odell  Mark  contemplated  making  rad- 
ical alterations  in  the  Mansion  before  returning  to 
it.  Cook  and  his  wife  opened  that  portion  of  the 
Mansion  which  I  thought  best  adapted  for  my 
temporary  residence — about  half  of  the  place,  I 
should  say.  I  spent  a  few  quiet  days  looking  around 
the  estate  and  the  house.  I  was  always  on  guard, 
however,  lest  I  appear  too  inquisitive  and  thereby 
betray  my  true  mission. 

"  There  was  an  old  maid-servant,  Annie  by  name, 
and  several  gardeners  about.  These  latter,  I  found, 
were  never  admitted  to  the  Mansion.  My  meals 
were  served  in  the  dining-room,  and  this  room  was 
the  one  in  which  I  spent  most  of  my  time.  The 


B2  Quintus  Oakes 


servants  gave  me  but  little  information  regarding 
the  mysterious  doings  that  had  so  frightened  their 
employers.  I  could  tell  by  their  action  that  they 
were  genuinely  afraid  to  be  alone  in  the  place,  and 
they  all  cautioned  me  repeatedly.  They  seemed 
anxious  that  the  affair  should  be  investigated,  and 
said  that  Mr.  Odell  should  have  had  detectives  at 
work  on  the  mystery.  It  was  evident  they  were 
afraid  that  they  would  lose  their  positions  if  no  one 
returned  to  live  at  the  Mansion  soon. 

"  I  noticed  a  strong  under-current  of  contempt  for 
Mr.  Odell;  they  seemed  to  think  he  was  a  cowardly 
fellow,  none  too  anxious  to  remain,  or  he  would  have 
investigated  the  affair.  In  fact,  they  behaved  some- 
times as  though  they  thought  that  he  might  have 
been  at  the  bottom  of  the  mystery.  Occasionally, 
Oook  and  his  wife  and  Annie  had  stayed  in  the  Man- 
sion, cleaning  up,  and  had  never  seen  anything  un- 
usual. Nothing  had  occurred  since  Mr.  Odell  Mark 
had  left — which  certainly  was  peculiar. 

"  I  could  see  that  my  true  identity  was  not  sus- 
pected. My  presence  seemed  to  have  inspired  con- 
fidence ifl  them  all.  I  called  Cook  and  his  wife,  or 


Oakes's  Experience  33 

Annie,  into  my  rooms  for  a  talk  quite  frequently, 
Nothing  happened,  and  I  began  to  feel  that  there 
was  exaggeration  somewhere;  but,  nevertheless,  I 
moved  with  caution  and  slept  in  the  back  room  over 
the  dining-room  with  the  doors  carefully  locked.  I 
insisted  that  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Cook  sleep  in  the  front 
room.  The  servants  at  first  demurred,  but  finally 
consented  when  I  told  them  that  if  they  did  not  do 
so  I  would  not  remain,  and  would  report  unfavor- 
ably as  regards  the  remodeling  of  the  Mansion.  I 
noticed  that  they  bolted  their  doors  carefully  every 
night  and  kept  a  light  burning  in  their  room.  This 
I  knew,  as  its  rays  shone  through  under  their  door 
into  the  hall. 

"  This  satisfied  me  that  they  were  on  guard  and 
afraid,  and  consequently  unaware  of  the  real  nature 
of  the  mystery. 

"  Late  one  night,  after  about  a  week,  I  wae  look- 
ing out  of  one  of  the  windows  in  the  dining-room, 
watching  a  boat  passing.  The  lights  upon  her  and 
the  throbbing  of  her  engmet,  half  a  mile  away,  were 
plunging  me  into  a  reverie,  when  suddenly  I  felt  a 
peculiar  sensation  of  uneasiness.  I  glanced  along 


34  Quintus  Oakes 

the  porch,  and  at  the  windows;  everything  seemed 
all  right.  I  turned,  and  saw  Annie  some  distance  up 
the  hall  attending  to  a  lamp  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs. 
The  afternoon  paper  lay  on  the  table.  I  walked 
over  to  it  and  picked  it  up,  stationing  myself  a  few 
feet  away  from  the  hall  door,  where  I  commanded 
a  view  of  the  entire  room,  the  windows  and  the  bal- 
cony. I  heard,  or  fancied  I  heard,  a  step  or  shuffle, 
and  then  instantly  something  closed  around  my 
throat  and  I  was  pulled  backward  and  downward. 
I  heard  a  rush  in  the  hall  and  saw  Annie's  terrified 
face  looking  into  the  room,  but  she  did  not  see  me. 
I  tried  to  cry  out  for  help,  but  was  unable  to  raise 
my  voice.  Realizing  that  I  was  being  killed  without 
aid,  I  struggled  with  all  my  power.  I  have  an  in- 
distinct recollection  of  a  shriek  in  the  hall,  then  a 
rustling  sound,  as  of  garments,  near  me.  The  next 
I  knew,  Annie,  Cook  and  his  wife,  with  two  garden- 
ers, were  working  over  me.  One  of  the  gardeners 
had  opened  my  shirt  and  thrown  water  upon  my 
throat.  I  was  unconscious  for  some  minutes,  they 
said;  but  when  I  recovered  my  senses  I  ordered  all 
hands  to  keep  their  mouths  closed,  under  pain  of  in- 


Oakes's  Experience  35 

stant  dismissal.  Inquiries  instituted  by  me  revealed 
that  Annie  had  first  heard  my  struggles,  and  the 
shriek  that  had  been  given  was  hers.  Response  had 
been  quick,  but  when  Cook  first  entered  the  room, 
backed  up  by  the  wife  and  old  Annie,  I  was  lying 
limp  and  unconscious,  face  downward  on  the  floor,  as 
though  I  had  been  thrown  violently  forward." 

The  recital  of  this  narrative  had  been  given  in  a 
quiet,  dignified  manner — one  of  absolute  conviction. 
It  was  an  impartial  statement  of  fact,  and  we  were 
profoundly  impressed. 

Dr.  Moore  turned  to  me  and  said :  "  Well,  do  you 
feel  like  joining  us  ?  " 

"  Ah !    Then  you  are  in  this  too  ?  "  I  exclaimed. 

"  Yes,  Mr.  Oakes  is  going  to  let  me  have  my  vaca- 
tion in  his  company." 

"  I  certainly  shall  go,"  I  said;  "  it  appears  to  me 
that  this  matter  is  a  serious  one." 

"  It  is  very  serious,"  Oakes  repeated.  "  There  is 
a  deep  mystery  at  the  Mansion,  and  its  solution  may 
be  a  dangerous  one.  There  is  murder  in  that 
method  of  attack,  and  terrible  strength  behind  it." 


36  Quintus  Oakes 


"  What  is  it  ?    A  man  ?  "  asked  Moore. 

"  That  is  conjecture  as  yet,"  said  Oakes.  "  I  cer- 
tainly heard  the  sound  made  by  a  woman's  skirts,  or 
something  of  that  sort,  but  the  strength  was  too 
great  for  most  women  hereabouts." 

"  Yes,  if  you  were  overcome  by  it,"  I  remarked. 

"  The  servants  are  firmly  convinced  that  the 
whole  business  is  supernatural.  That  is  hardly 
worth  discussing.  I  have  no  doubt  that  you  two 
gentlemen,  as  possible  purchasers  of  the  Mansion, 
•will  have  opportunities  to  settle  the  question  for 
yourselves." 

There  was  just  the  shadow  of  a  smile  on  Oakes's 
face  as  he  spoke. 

"  Did  you  notice  anything  peculiar  about  the 
people  at  the  Mansion — the  care-takers  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  No,  I  thought  their  actions  were  natural,  espe- 
cially when  I  was  assaulted.  One  of  the  gardeners, 
who  did  not  do  very  much  to  help  me,  seemed  pre- 
occupied and  made  advances  for  a  better  acquaint- 
ance before  I  left.  I  think  he  will  bear  watching 
closely;  he  knows  something." 

"  How  long  did  you  remain  at  the  Mansion  after 
the  assault?" 


Oakes's  Experience  37 

"  Only  a  few  days,"  said  Oakes.  "  I  could  learn 
nothing  alone.  It  was  too  dangerous.  When  we 
return,  it  will  be  in  greater  numbers.  If  our  mis- 
sion is  suspected  we  will  be  obliged  to  work  through 
other  channels,  but  I  think  we  can  fool  the  care- 
takers; they  will  say  nothing  to  you  about  the 
mystery,  and  they  will  think  that  I  am  more  anxious 
than  ever  to  dispose  of  the  place.  Should  our  work 
be  suspected,  however,"  continued  the  detective, 
"  we  will  be  face  to  face  with  complications.  We 
may  have  to  be  reenf orced  by  men  from  my  agency, 
but  they  will  probably  not  be  known  even  to  you." 

"  The  reward  for  the  solution  of  this  mystery  is  a 
large  one,  and  the  prosperity  of  the  town  depends 
upon  it.  This  matter  at  the  Mansion  has  not  only 
affected  its  own  value,  as  I  said,  but  has  helped 
greatly  to  depreciate  the  worth  of  the  surrounding; 
properties." 

Then,  turning  to  Moore: 

"  I  think  your  professional  knowledge  may  come 
in  handy  in  several  ways,  so  you  may  consider  that 
your  time  will  be  well  paid  for,  and  your  vacation 
a  profitable  one — that  is,  of  course,  if  you  return 
alive." 


38  Quintus  Oakes 


This  was  so  seriously  said  as  to  cause  me  a 
momentary  feeling  of  discomfort. 

We  now  discussed  details  and  arrangements  for 
our  start,  for  we  had  decided  to  go.  Oakes  and  I 
were  to  leave  first,  while  Doctor  Moore  was  to  come 
a  few  days  later,  owing  to  his  inability  to  get  away 
at  once. 

Having  finished  with  his  story  and  the  necessary 
details  of  instruction,  Oakes  changed  his  manner 
and  offered  us  cigars.  The  Jap  brought  in  a  few 
glasses  and  a  bottle,  which  opened  up  the  social  side 
of  our  interview. 

Noticing  that  our  host  had  not  lighted  a  cigar,  I 
ventured  the  remark  that  he  was  not  a  heavy  smoker. 

"  No,"  said  he.  "  I  very  rarely  use  tobacco  dur- 
ing business;  it  is  a  peculiarity  of  mine,  I  am  told." 

His  face  was  quite  smiling  now. 

He  continued :  "  With  some  it  acts  as  a  concen- 
trator of  ideas — at  least,  so  claim  its  devotees. 
With  me,  it  dissipates  them;  I  use  it  simply  as  a 
pleasure  when  work  is  done." 

WThile  he  spoke,  I  was  again  impressed  with  that 
peculiar  celerity  of  movement  in  small  actions  which 
I  had  noticed  before. 


Oakes' s  Experience  39 

He  passed  the  cigars  in  an  ordinary,  deliberate 
manner,  conversing  the  while ;  but  when  he  reached 
for  a  match,  I  was  amazed  at  the  lightning-like 
rapidity  of  the  movement.  His  hand  shot  out, 
selected  it  from  the  stand  on  the  table,  lighted  it  and 
the  cigar,  and  returned  the  burned  stick  to  the  tray 
with  a  rapidity  and  evenness  which  made  of  it  almost 
a  continuous  act. 

It  reminded  me  forcibly  of  the  movement  with 
the  telephone  receiver.  I  felt  that,  given  the  neces- 
sity and  the  occasion,  his  general  action  would  be 
roused  to  quickness  of  the  same  kind — sure  and  in- 
stantaneous. He  impressed  me  as  a  man  with  a  tre- 
mendous reserve  of  strength  and  vitality. 

When  we  left  for  the  evening,  Oakes  shook  my 
hand  with  a  stout,  firm  grasp,  the  kind  that  means 
friendliness  and  inspires  confidence.  When  outside, 
I  asked  of  my  companion  what  he  privately  thought 
of  the  affair  at  the  Mark  Mansion. 

"  There  is  something  extraordinary  there,  surely," 
answered  the  physician.  "  Knowing  Oakes  as  I  do, 
Stone,  I  am  fully  convinced  that  he  is  deeply  worried 
over  the  matter.  He  would  never  think  of  having 


40  Quintals  Oakes 

us  in  such  an  affair  unless  he  desired  our  company. 
He  is  ae  brave  as  any  man — his  record  shows  that; 
but  he  is  also  noted  for  caution.  He  sees,  or  thinks 
he  sees,  a  dangerous  game  her© — a  plot,  perhaps — 
where  our  presence  will  be  a  support.  He  has  often 
told  me  in  conversation,  that  he  regards  the  legal 
and  medical  minds  as  particularly  adapted  to  pass 
judgment  on  certain  problems  of  a  peculiar  nature. 
He  hae  an  idea  that  our  training  will  perhaps  help 
him  in  the  matter,  I  think." 

With  this  remark,  we  parted  at  Broadway  and 
Forty-second  Street,  and  went  to  our  respective 
homes. 


CHAPTER 

The  Departure 

Next  morning,  while  at  breakfast,  I  received  a 
letter  from  Mandel  &  Sturgeon  which  was  satis- 
factory to  me,  and  I  went  down  to  my  office  and  noti- 
fied my  partner,  Hart,  that  I  was  about  to  take  a 
vacation. 

Fortunately,  we  had  just  successfully  finished  a 
long  legal  fight  in  the  courts,  and  my  excuse  was  a 
natural  one. 

I  then  went  out  and  bought  a  good  revolver,  such 
as  Oakes  had  told  me  to  get  when  we  discussed  details 
the  night  before.  He  had  insisted  upon  our  being 
armed  all  alike,  and  furnished  with  the  same  kind 
of  cartridges.  We  could  then  exchange  weapons  in 
an  emergency,  and  still  be  supplied  with  ammunition. 

Having  completed  my  purchase,  I  went  to  the 
Club,  where  Oakes  was  awaiting  me.  We  lunched 
together,  and  during  the  conversation  he  told  me  to 
express  my  baggage  to  the  Mansion  that  afternoon, 


42  Quintus  Oakes 


and  to  meet  him  at  the  Central  Station  at  eight 
o'clock  P.M. 

"  And  be  cautious  in  your  movements,"  he  said. 
"  Here  is  your  ticket.  Wear  serviceable  clothes  and 
a  heavy  dark  overcoat,  such  as  you  had  on  last  night, 
with  a  black  Fedora  hat.  Don't  notice  me,  but  enter 
the  same  car  as  I  do  on  the  train.  I  will  contrive  to 
be  with  you  before  we  arrive  at  our  destination." 

"Why  all  this?  "I  asked. 

"  Well,  I  wish  to  be  able  to  identify  you.  easily  in 
a  crowd.  If  I  know  how  you  are  dressed,  it  might 
be  valuable  in  several  other  ways  also.  We  may 
have  to  change  our  plans,  in  which  event  it  will  be 
easier  for  me  if  I  know  how  you  look." 

"  I  do  not  exactly  understand,"  said  I,  "  but  I  pre- 
sume you  do." 

"  Precisely.    You  may  learn  in  time." 

As  we  emerged  from  the  Club  a  newsboy  came  up 
to  Oakes,  from  whom  he  bought  a  paper,  and  as  he 
did  so,  the  boy  said : 

"  Martin  says  you  are  followed,  sir." 

Oakes  turned  to  me :  "  Meet  me  as  I  said ;  and  do 

as  I  do  afterwards  in  everything.    I  shall  be  forced 

to  change  my  plans." 


The  Departure  43 


The  boy  had  gone  after  another  customer,  and 
Oakes  continued :  "  Martin  is  my  aide ;  he  has  posted 
me.  Good-by !  See  you  later.  Explain  some  other 
time." 

We  parted,  and  I  went  about  my  preparations  for 
departure  with  that  exhilaration  that  men  feel  when 
about  to  enter  into  some  strange  undertaking.  It  was 
to  be  a  novel  experience  for  me,  and  I  frankly  con- 
fess that  certain  misgivings  haunted  me.  That  I  was 
entering,  willingly,  to  be  sure,  upon  a  journey  of 
many  possibilities  I  did  not  for  one  moment  doubt; 
that  I  should  need  the  weapon  already  purchased, 
and  the  utmost  coolness  that  I  could  muster,  seemed 
to  me  more  than  likely.  At  this  date  I  felt  nothing 
akin  to  fear,  and  the  knowledge  that  Quintus  Oakes 
was  to  be  our  leader  prevented  a  too  serious  estimate 
of  the  possible  consequences. 

Later  on  I  did  feel  some  regrets  at  having  hurled 
myself  into  the  episodes  that  followed,  but  this  feel- 
ing vanished  soon  in  the  excitement  of  the  events 
that  transpired  at  Mona. 

Shortly  before  the  appointed  time  I  arrived  at  the 
station  and  strolled  about  the  rotunda  in  search  of 
Oakes. 


44  Quintus  Oakes 

I  espied  him  at  the  paper  stand,  dressed  in  a  dark 
heavy  overcoat  and  a  hat  like  mine.  His  recognition 
of  me  was  instantaneous,  but  he  made  no  movement 
until,  after  buying  a  paper,  he  walked  past  me  to  the 
door. 

Looking  at  me  with  a  glance  that  warned  me,  he 
stepped  out  and  into  a  car  that  was  approaching.  I 
jumped  on  the  same  car,  and  in  a  very  few  moments 
he  and  I  were  going  up  the  Sixth  Avenue  Elevated 
stairway,  but  acting  as  strangers  to  one  another. 

There  were  many  persons  boarding  the  Harlem 
train  with  us.  It  was  a  tiresome  ride  to  the  terminus, 
but  when  Oakes  and  I  stepped  out  and  down  to  the 
street,  he  jumped  into  a  carriage  in  waiting,  drawn 
by  a  pair  of  horses,  and  beckoned  to  me.  I  stepped 
in  also,  and  sat  by  his  side  on  the  back  seat. 

The  driver  started  at  a  quick  pace  across  the  bridge 
and  into  Jerome  Avenue. 

Oakes  turned  to  me :  "  It  seems  that  my  move- 
ments are  watched  by  men  in  a  rival  agency.  I  have 
detected  no  followers,  but  time  will  tell  if  they  exist. 
I  saw  a  fellow  watching  me  at  the  station,  and  we 
may  have  easily  been  followed  on  the  elevated  train; 
in  such  a  crowd  one  cannot  detect." 


The  Departure  45 


"  Why  do  they  watch  you,  Mr.  Oakes  ?  Are  they 
suspicious  that  we  are  going  to  Mona  ?  " 

"  No,  not  at  all,"  answered  Oakes.  "  They  are 
watching  to  see  where  I  am  going.  You  see,"  he  con- 
tinued, "  I  am  working  on  several  other  cases,  and 
perhaps  they  are,  too.  You  realize  there  are  times 
when  men  of  my  profession  cross  each  other's  paths, 
and  it  is  advantageous  to  know  what  the  other  fellow 
is  doing." 

"  I  see.  Keeping  tab  on  one  another !  "  I  said. 
"  Rather  expensive  work,  is  it  not  ?  " 

Oakes  smiled.  "  Yes,  but  it  is  business.  I  like  to 
know  when  a  rival  leaves  town.  I  keep  a  pretty  close 
watch  myself  on  some  of  them." 

We  drove  rapidly,  and  soon  pulled  up  at  an  out-of- 
the-way  roadhouse. 

"  Come,"  said  Oakes,  alighting. 

A  portly  German  was  behind  the  bar,  evidently  the 
proprietor. 

Oakes  made  a  sudden  movement  of  his  hand,  and 
the  door  was  locked.  We  two  were  then  shown  into 
a  rear  room  where  two  other  men  were  seated — both 
tall,  well-built  fellows,  and  both  dressed  as  we  were, 
in  dark  overcoats  and  black  Fedora  hats. 


46  Quintus  Oakes 


They  saluted  Oakes,  and  after  a  word  or  two 
stepped  into  the  bar-room,  where  the  German  served 
them  with  drinks.  In  a  minute  they  were  in  our 
carriage  and  driving  away  toward  Yonkers. 

"  I  see  now  why  you  were  particular  as  to  my 
dress." 

"  Yes,  a  substitution  like  this  is  useful  sometimes. 
I  thought  I  might  be  forced  to  make  one.  Much  bet- 
ter than  nonsensical  disguises.  We  will  soon  know 
if  any  one  is  coming  after  us,"  he  continued.  "  This 
is  really  the  last  place  before  the  fork  of  the  road, 
and  anyone  following  us  would  have  to  be  in  sight  all 
the  time,  or  else  stop  here  for  information." 

The  proprietor  motioned  us  upstairs  to  a  front 
room,  and  Oakes  said  to  him :  "  Remember,  we  have 
gone  to  Yonkers."  But  the  good-natured  German 
evidently  knew  his  business,  for  he  only  smiled  and 
went  off  muttering  something  to  himself  about  a 
"  damned  good  mix-up." 

In  a  few  minutes  two  men  drew  up  in  a  buggy, 
and  were  admitted  below  by  the  obsequious  old 
fellow. 

Then  we  heard  the  question :  "  Have  you  seen  two 


The  Departure  47 


tall  gentlemen  in  black  coats  and  soft  hats  here- 
abouts, Dutchy  ? " 

The  German  thought  a  moment :  "  Yah,  yah ;  dare 
vas  two  big  fellers  just  here;  dey  vas  took  some 
viskey  and  got  away  quick." 

"  Which  way  ?  "  asked  the  men. 

"  Dey  vas  gone  up  dar  Yonkers  Road." 

Oakes  chuckled.  "  The  old  fellow  is  all  right;  an 
old  friend  of  mine." 

Then  we  heard  the  men  say :  "  Here,  Dutchy, 
here's  something  for  you,"  and  we  knew  they  had 
given  him  a  tip. 

In  a  moment  they  were  gone,  and  the  old  fellow 
was  to  be  heard  chuckling  audibly  to  himself :  "  Five 
dollar  for  von  great  big  mix-up." 

Oakes  watched  the  team  turn  up  the  Yonkers  Road 
after  our  decoy,  and  then  he  said : 

"  Come,  Stone,  move  quickly."  He  led  the  way 
downstairs  to  the  back  entrance,  and  to  the  stable, 
where  we  found  a  man  with  a  team.  He  saluted  us. 
It  was  the  carriage  in  which  Oakes's  men  had  come 
out. 

"  Drive  hard  for  the  Harlem  Station;  we  can  catch 
the  10 :30  train/'  was  the  order. 


48  Quintus  Oakes 

Our  driver  evidently  knew  what  to  do,  and  we  soon 
passed  out  of  the  carriage-way. 

At  the  side  of  the  door  we  halted  a  moment,  and  I 
saw  Oakes  give  the  German  a  twenty-dollar  bill. 

"  Remember,"  he  said,  "  not  a  word." 

We  caught  our  train  after  a  long  drive  to  the  east, 
and  back  over  the  Harlem  River.  When  we  seated 
ourselves  in  the  sleeper,  Oakes  turned  to  me  quietly. 
"  Please  remember,  Stone,  that  you  are  a  possible 
buyer,  and  that  I  am  Charles  Clark,  agent  for  the 
owner  of  the  Mark  Mansion,  We  have  had  a  pleas- 
ant evening  together  so  far,  have  we  not  ?  " 

He  smiled  in  his  quiet,  unruffled  manner  as  he 
spoke. 

"  Yea — rather  active,"  I  said.  "  I  presume  those 
other  fellows  are  thinking  so  too,  probably." 

"  Only  the  last  two,"  said  Oakes ;  "  my  men  are 
home  by  this  time." 

Shortly  after  midnight  we  arrived  at  the  station 
at  the  foot  of  the  hill  which  hid  the  beautiful  town 
of  Mona. 

"  Keep  your  senses  alert,"  said  Oakes  as  we  left 
the  train,  "for  we  are  now  in  the  region  of  un- 


The  Departure  49 


certainty.  We  had  better  not  walk  to  the  hotel,  al- 
though it  is  only  about  a  mile.  The  hour  is  too  late." 

The  solitary  hackmen,  seeing  us  approach,  roused 
himself  from  his  sleepy  lethargy  and  soon  we  were 
slowly  ascending  the  hill.  The  well-kept  road  was 
lighted  here  and  there  by  electricity,  an  agreeable 
witness  to  the  civilization  around  us. 

I  saw  Oakes  place  his  weapon  in  his  outside  over- 
coat pocket — as  he  said,  the  most  convenient  place 
for  it  to  rest,  clad  as  we  were. 

The  action  was  a  vivid  reminder  of  the  experiences 
of  his  last  visit,  and  of  the  caution  of  the  man. 

Without  further  adventure  of  any  kind  we  arrived 
at  the  little  hotel,  with  its  sleepy  night  clerk  and  its 
gloomy  office.  This  opened  right  on  the  sidewalk  by 
means  of  a  large  wooden  door,  hung  a  low  step  above 
the  pavement,  and  fitting  so  poorly  in  its  frame  that 
the  rays  of  the  light  from  within  sought  exit  beneath 
it 


CHAPTER   V 

The  Letter 

While  Oakes  and  I  were  in  the  first  stages  of  our 
journey,  Dr.  Moore  stood  in  his  back  office  at  the 
close  of  business  hours,  wondering  if  the  adventure 
that  Oakes  had  so  well  described  to  us  could  in  any 
way  have  been  originated  by  other  than  physical 
forces.  Moore  was  a  deep  student  of  mental  phenom- 
ena. He  had  on  more  than  one  occasion  heard 
histories  of  terrible  tragedies,  so  real  in  their  word- 
ing that  the  picture  conveyed  was  the  practical  guar- 
antee of  their  origin  at  human  hands;  but,  never- 
theless, these  histories  had  been  proved  to  be  but  the 
imaginings  of  a  diseased  mind — products  of  a  delu- 
sion. 

In  every  other  respect  the  narrators  had  been,  in 
appearance  at  least,  perfectly  sane  individuals. 
While  he  hesitated  to  think  that  Oakes  might  have 
been  suffering  from  an  overworked  brain  at  the  time, 
still  he  knew  that  it  was  not  impossible. 


The  Letter  51 

The  struggles  that  the  servants  had  heard  had 
been  those  of  Oakes;  the  actual  evidences  so  far  of 
assault  were  vague.  Oakes  was  in  a  partially  uncon- 
scious condition,  to  be  sure;  but  what  evidence  of 
violence  was  that? 

Moore's  cool  professional  judgment  told  him  that 
queer  sensations  are  common  after  a  severe  shock, 
whether  delusional  in  origin  or  not. 

He  had  known  Oakes  for  years,  and  the  good  judg- 
ment and  coolness  that  he  had  always  shown  spoke 
greatly  against  a  recently  developed  mental  disorder. 

Still,  Moore  was  uneasy ;  he  longed  for  more  evi- 
dence of  physical  force  from  without — something 
more  positive. 

Of  course,  Oakes  was  not  alone  in  his  experience 
— there  had  been  others — but  it  was  possible  that  the 
mere  contagion  of  terror  might  be  in  part  responsible 
for  some  of  these.  There  had  been  no  witnesses. 
The  statement  of  violence  rested  on  the  word  of  the 
victims  alone.  Dr.  Moore  knew  that  men  thinking 
constantly  of  the  same  thing,  to  the  exclusion  of  all 
else,  might  develop  similar  delusions.  The  physician 
had  seen  many  strange  things,  and  was  not  a  man  to 


52  Quintus  Oakes 


be  easily  deceived.  Could  it  be  that  Quintus  Oakes 
was  the  victim  of  a  mental  process  ? 

It  was  this  very  power  which  Moore  possessed — of 
thinking  along  such  lines — that  made  him,  in  Oakes's 
opinion,  a  particularly  desirable  addition  to  the  party. 
Little,  however,  did  the  detective  imagine  that  the 
trained  mind  of  the  physician  would  first  weigh  the 
possibilities  of  Oakes's  own  mental  instability. 

While  Moore  was  deep  in  thought,  he  was  sud- 
denly interrupted  by  the  bell,  and  the  receipt  of  a 
note  which  had  been  delivered  by  the  postman. 

He  glanced  at  the  postmark,  and  saw  that  it  was 
from  Station  O  and  was  mailed  at  4:30. 

Somehow,  he  felt  an  instinctive  dread  of  its  con- 
tents. Of  course,  he  as  yet  had  no  adequate  cause 
for  misgivings;  but  there  was  that  in  the  subject  of 
which  he  had  been  thinking  that  seemed  to  forecast 
evil  and  dread.  His  mind  was  in  a  state  of  unrest 
at  the  very  thought  of  the  possibiltiee.  He  tore 
the  letter  open,  and  read: 

"  DEAR  DR.  MOORE  :  You  may  not  deem  it  wise 
to  pay  attention  to  an  anonymous  communication, 
but  let  me  assure  you  that,  if  you  value  a  life,  you 
will  pay  attention  in  this  case. 


The  Letter  53 

"  It  has  come  within  my  province  to  know  that  a 
great  tragedy  may  be  averted  by  you. 

"  Some  short  while  ago  a  man,  tall,  straight  as  an 
arrow,  and  with  blue  eyes,  went  to  the  town  of  Mona 
and  stopped  at  the  Mansion.  There  he  came  near 
being  murdered,  and  if  he  ever  goes  back,  I  person- 
ally know  that  he  will  be  killed  in  short  order. 

"  His  business  was  said  to  be  that  of  an  agent  for 
the  owners.  I  saw  him  in  New  York  several  years 
ago,  and  he  was  pointed  out  to  me  as  a  celebrated 
detective,  but  I  cannot  remember  his  name,  or  that 
of  the  person  who  informed  me. 

"  At  Mona  he  was  known  by  another  name.  I  can- 
not go  there,  however,  or  learn  any  more  particulars. 
The  reason  I  address  this  to  you  is  that  I  know  that 
you  are  acquainted  with  him,  as  years  ago  I  used  to 
see  him  often  in  your  company. 

"  Now  please  communicate  with  this  man;  you  are 
the  only  thread  that  I  have  to  his  identity. 

"  Reach  him,  if  possible,  at  once.  Warn  him. 
Tell  him  to  turn  back — to  abandon  his  quest,  for 
death  to  him  is  the  only  alternative. 

"  Do  not  attempt  to  trace  my  identity.  Act,  and 
act  quickly,  if  you  wish  to  prevent  a  great  horror." 

The  letter  terminated  abruptly.    Dr.  Moore  real- 


54  Quintus  Oakes 

ized  in  an  instant  that  Oakes's  movements  were 
known  to  some  outsider  already — someone  who  had 
either  been  in  Manhattan  that  day,  or  who  had  sent 
the  letter  there  to  one  who  had  mailed  it. 

He  saw  the  whole  matter  in  a  most  serious  light. 
Oakes  was  in  danger  from  forces  he  did  not  suspect, 
perhaps,  and  the  assault  he  had  described  had  been 
known  to  others  besides  the  immediate  household  of 
servants.  For  who,  of  that  household,  could  have 
written  such  a  letter? 

Moore  thought  of  his  plans  gone  astray,  of  his  busi- 
ness engagements,  but  they  all  paled  into  insignifi- 
cance in  the  face  of  the  danger  to  Oakes. 

He  decided  to  follow  up  Oakes  by  the  very  next 
train.  Finding  he  had  time  for  one  or  two  calls,  he 
rushed  in  his  carriage  to  make  them,  and  as  he 
entered  his  office  upon  his  return  he  found  an  ener- 
getic young  man  awaiting  him.  He  knew  him  as 
Martin,  one  of  Oakes's  aides. 

"  Good  evening,  Doctor !  You're  on  the  rush  to- 
night. My !  but  I  had  to  hustle." 

"  Good  evening !  But  how  did  you  know  so  much 
of  my  movements — how,  why,  did  you  have  to 
hustle?" 


The  Letter  55 

"  I  just  arrived  here  a  few  seconds  ago.  I  have 
been  watching  you  this  evening.  Mr.  Oakes  told  me 
to  take  care  of  you  and  keep  you  out  of  mischief. 
You  see,  he  feared  trouble  of  some  kind.  I  was  told 
to  report  to  you  once  in  a  while — and  here  I  am." 

The  physician  understood,  and  then  they  discussed 
the  recent  development.  It  was  agreed  that  Dr. 
Moore  should  leave  for  Mona ;  and  this,  after  arrang- 
ing his  business  by  telephone  and  hastily  making 
ready,  he  succeeded  in  doing. 

As  he  boarded  the  train  he  asked  of  Martin,  who 
was  with  him,  if  he  was  to  go  to  Mona  also. 

"  That  depends  upon  who  enters  after  you.  If  I 
think  you  are  followed,  I  go  too."  And  Moore  real- 
ized that  Oakes's  hand  of  caution  had  been  shown 
once  more. 


CHAPTER    VI 

The  Murder 

The  rising  sun  was  invisible  from  the  little  station 
hidden  in  the  gloom  of  the  hill,  but  away  out  on  the 
river  its  rays  reached  the  water  and  marked  out 
sharply  the  shadow  of  the  high  ground. 

Further  down  the  stream  the  rugged  outlines  of 
the  Mansion  were  cut  in  silhouette  on  the  surface  of 
the  river,  which  was,  as  yet,  smooth  as  a  mill-pond, 
but  which  soon  would  be  moved  by  those  thousands 
of  ripples  advancing  from  the  opposite  shore. 

As  the  sun  shot  his  beams  clearer  and  sharper,  the 
mist  of  the  distance  unfolded  and  the  rays  struck  the 
ragged  granite  cliffs  of  the  shore,  and  revealed  them 
yellow  and  gray  in  the  bluish  haze  of  the  morn. 

Away  up,  miles  beyond,  the  river  broadened  and 
the  mountains  of  both  sides  rose  abruptly  and  rug- 
gedly, apparently  from  the  water's  edge,  causing  the 
effect  of  a  wide,  placid  lake. 


The  Murder  57 


All  was  quiet,  lonely  and  dark  on  this  side  of  the 
shore  under  the  hill,  but  beyond,  where  the  rays  of 
the  sun  had  reached,  was  beginning  life  and  activity. 

A  schooner,  becalmed  until  now,  began  to  move 
with  the  breeze  that  greeted  the  waking  of  day. 

The  train  had  but  just  left  the  little  station,  and 
again  had  two  strangers  alighted.  One,  the  older, 
trudged  up  the  hill  covered  with  a  great-coat,  and 
with  hands  in  his  pockets.  He  walked  rather  rapidly, 
looking  sharply  around  once  or  twice.  As  he  neared 
the  top,  where  the  country  rolls  off  into  the  plain,  he 
turned  to  admire  the  spectacle  of  the  breaking  day. 
His  glance  followed  the  road,  and  he  saw  below  the 
second  figure  walking  along  in  a  hurry,  as  though  to 
make  up  for  lost  time. 

He  smiled  and  said  to  himself :  "  That  fellow 
Martin  is  a  persistent  youngster,  anyway." 

A  few  yards  more  brought  him  to  the  crest  of  the 
hill;  then  he  suddenly  stopped,  for  before  him  was 
unfolded  a  stretch  of  rolling  ground,  well  filled  with 
trees  in  autumnal  foliage,  and  beyond,  the  spires  and 
the  sky-line  of  a  sleeping  town.  To  his  right  he 
beheld  a  large  wooded  tract  extending  for  at  least  a 


58  Quintus  Oakes 

mile  down  the  river,  and  in  the  dim  distance  the 
shaded  outlines  of  an  old  mansion.  Over  all  was  the 
glorious  yellow  sun.  The  new  fresh  rays  caught  the 
leaves  on  the  trees  and  on  the  ground,  and  kissed 
away  the  frost  of  the  October  morning.  The 
traveller  drew  a  long  breath. 

"  I  have  been  over  the  world,  almost,  but  never  did 
T  know  such  splendor  was  so  near  my  office,"  said  he, 
half  aloud.  He  had  discovered  what  some  few  had 
already  known,  that  here  at  our  doors,  if  one  is  not 
too  indifferent,  can  be  found  the  scenery  one  seeks 
in  a  month's  journey. 

While  walking  along,  Moore,  for  he  was  the  man, 
was  overtaken  by  a  milk-wagon  which  rattled  by  with 
its  two  horses;  the  driver,  lashing  his  whip,  seemed  to 
mark  the  actual  awakening  to  life  of  this  rural  com- 
munity. 

"  Say,  how  far  to  the  hotel  and  which  way  ?  " 
asked  Moore. 

"  Down  the  road  a  piece.  Come,  get  in.  I'll  drive 
ye." 

Moore  jumped  up  alongside,  and  was  thankful  for 
the  lift. 


The  Murder  59 


As  they  sped  along,  he  started  at  a  sound  in  the 
distance  like  the  faint  crack  of  a  whip,  but  duller. 

"  What  was  that — a  shot?  "  he  said. 

"  Yes ;  rather  early,  but  poachers  like  to  get  on  to 
the  Mark  place  'most  any  time.  Didn't  sound  like 
much  of  a  gun,  though." 

They  were  now  at  the  hotel,  and  Moore  registered 
in  the  old  dilapidated  book,  and  went  to  his  room  be- 
fore his  breakfast.  As  he  lay  down  for  a  moment 
to  rest,  all  of  the  vivid  experiences  of  the  last  twenty- 
four  hours  coursed  through  his  brain.  He  followed 
the  events  of  the  evening  before,  and  congratulated 
himself  on  being  now  relieved  from  anxiety,  for  a 
time  at  least. 

He  had  seen  my  name  and  that  of  "  Clark,"  whom 
he  knew  to  be  Oakes,  on  the  register,  and  had  located 
our  rooms  as  right  opposite  his  own.  Perhaps  he 
had  better  communicate  with  Oakes  and  myself, 
now  it  was  six  o'clock,  he  thought.  He  looked  into 
the  corridor  and  saw  no  one  about,  for  no  attendant 
watches  in  these  little  hotels  in  the  country.  He 
locked  his  door,  and  knocked  at  Oakes's.  In  a  mo- 
ment he  heard  the  key  click,  and  Oakes  looked  care- 


60  Quintus  Oakes 


fully  through  the  partially  opened  door.  The  recog- 
nition was  quick  and  Moore  was  admitted. 

In  another  moment  I  had  joined  them,  for  Oakes's 
room  and  mine  communicated;  he  had  thought  it 
best  that  we  should  have  access  to  each  other  at  all 
times,  if  possible. 

We  two  hastily  dressed,  and  Dr.  Moore  presented 
the  cause  of  his  visit  as  briefly  as  possible. 

"  Let  me  see  the  letter,"  said  Oakes. 

He  read  it  carefully.  "  One  thing  is  certain — it 
is  written  by  a  person  of  some  education.  That 
proves  nothing,  however.  It  may  have  been  dictated 
originally  by  a  very  illiterate  person." 

"  It  was  sent  from  New  York." 

"  Oh,  yes,"  said  Oakes  wearily,  "  but  it  may  simply 
have  been  written  there.  It  may  have  gone  under 
cover  in  different  language — from  any  place  almost 
— and  been  copied  or  put  into  shape  by  an  accom- 
plice." 

"  Hard  to  trace  it,"  said  Moore. 

'  Yes,  practically  impossible,  along  those  lines. 
But  in  any  event  it  was  written  on  a  woman's  paper ; 
see  the  texture." 


The  Murder  61 


We  all  noticed  its  fineness  and  agreed. 

"  And  the  odor  of  musk  is  not  a  man's  favorite, 
either,"  remarked  Oakes,  as  we  noticed  the  scent. 
He  was  standing  erect,  with  a  slightly  abstracted  air. 
He  was  thinking. 

"  Well,"  said  Moore,  "  we  cannot  find  out  much 
then." 

"  Oh,  yes,  you  can." 

"  The  letter  speaks  of  the  color  of  my  eyes.  The 
originator  has  seen  me  many  times  at  close  range. 
This  is  an  unintentional  clue.  The  style  of  the  writ- 
ing, the  paper  and  the  perfume  point  to  a  woman, 
but  the  wording  is  a  man's,  as  is  the  description  of 
myself,  I  judge." 

"  Well,  what  do  you  think?  " 

"  I  hazard  a  guess  that  the  letter  was  written  or 
dictated  by  a  man  of  some  education,  and  rewritten 
by  a  woman  as  a  disguise." 

"  Ah !  And  where  was  it  written  ?  " 

"  That  it  is  impossible  to  say.  Perhaps  in  New 
York — but  it  may  have  been  here  in  Mona.  As  I 
said,  the  originator  is  a  man,  probably,  who  knows 
me  by  sight,  and  knows  Mona  and  its  affairs  very 


62  Quintus  Oakes 

well,  but  who  also  knows  New  York  and  your  city 
address,  Moore;  for  the  letter  went  there.  By  his 
knowledge  of  late  events  in  Mona  I  should  imagine 
that  he  perhaps  lives  here,  but  has  recently  been  to 
New  York,  or  else  has  an  accomplice  there — a  woman 
— who  rewrote  and  remailed  the  letter  for  him." 

At  breakfast  we  contrived  to  keep  the  waitress 
busy  filling  orders,  for  we  wished  to  discuss  our 
affairs  and  had  no  mind  to  be  overheard.  Oakes  had 
prepared  the  proprietor  for  Moore's  arrival,  saying 
he  expected  him  at  any  time;  so  his  coming  excited 
no  particular  attention.  While  the  girl  was  out,  the 
doctor  narrated  his  morning's  experience  as  far  as 
the  walk  up  the  hill.  We  addressed  Oakes  as  Clark, 
as  had  been  previously  agreed. 

"  Did  Martin  follow  you  ?  "  asked  the  detective. 
"  Yes,  I  saw  him  ascending  the  hill  after  me." 
Our  leader  thought  a  moment.     "  Curious  !    Why 
has  he  not  made  himself  visible  here  ?    The  chances 
are  you  were  mistaken,  Moore." 

"  Oh,  no.    I  feel  confident  it  was  Martin." 
We  left  the  cheerless,  low-ceiled  dining-room  and 
walked  out  into  the  corridor,  where  the  porter  was 


The  Murder  63 


mopping  the  floor,  and  the  cigar-stand  opening  for 
business. 

I  went  over  and  bought  something  to  smoke. 
Moore  took  one,  but  Oakes  refused.  That  meant  he 
•was  worried,  and  not  at  his  ease.  Presently  the  doc- 
tor remarked :  "  Seems  to  be  shooting  around  here." 

"  How  ?    What  do  you  mean  ?  "  asked  Oakes. 

"  Yes,  I  heard  a  shot  when  I  was  in  the  wagon. 
The  milkman  said  it  was  poachers  on  the  Mark  prop- 
erty." 

Oakes  wheeled  and  regarded  Moore  austerely. 

"  You  heard  shooting  on  the  Mark  grounds  ?  Why 
did  you  not  say  so  ?  You  tell  a  poor  story." 

At  this  moment  we  heard  a  commotion  outside, 
and  the  cry :  "  A  runaway !  " 

We  all  stepped  to  the  sidewalk,  where  a  few  early 
risers  had  gathered,  and  looked  down  the  road.  Com- 
ing over  the  crest  of  the  hill  from  the  station  was  a 
milk-wagon,  rushing  along  at  a  terrific  rate.  The 
horses  were  leaping,  with  heads  hung  low.  The 
smashing  of  cans  was  audible,  even  at  the  distance. 

"  That  is  no  runaway,"  said  Oakes.  "  Look  at  the 
horses'  heads — they  are  low.  Those  animals  are  not 
scared." 


64  Quintus  Oakes 

We  all  looked,  and  beheld  what  Oakes  had  already 
noticed. 

"  Look  at  the  driver,"  said  a  by-stander. 

He  was  standing  up  on  the  dashboard  plying  his 
whip  without  mercy.  By  his  side  was  a  boy,  hanging 
on  for  all  he  was  worth. 

In  the  quiet,  self-possessed  way  that  marks  a  leader 
in  all  emergencies,  Oakes  spoke  up :  "  That  is  a  race 
for  help,  boys,  not  a  runaway." 

Down  the  long  road  came  the  wagon — a  heavy 
affair.  Milk-cans  were  falling  out  and  the  roadway 
seemed  scarcely  enough  for  the  swaying  team.  The 
driver,  a  strapping  fellow,  balanced  himself  as  best  he 
could,  holding  the  reins  with  one  hand  and  using  the 
whip  with  the  other.  The  intelligent  animals  were 
straining  to  their  limit  in  dumb,  intense  brute  desire 
to  get  there,  or  die.  A  murmur  of  applause  arose 
from  the  crowd,  and  the  country  apathy  gave  way  to 
subdued  excitement.  Never  did  Eoman  charioteer 
drive  better !  Never  did  artillery  horses  pull  harder ! 

In  a  minute  or  so  the  team  came  abreast  of  us,  and 
the  driver,  by  a  wonderful  control  of  his  animals, 
pulled  up  abruptly.  He  dropped  his  whip  and  held 
up  his  hand. 


The  Murder  65 


"  There  is  a  gentleman  dying  on  the  road  by  the 
top  of  the  hill !  " 

"Who?    Who?" 

"  I  don't  know,  but  he's  on  his  face — with  blood 
all  over  his  back.  He's  been  shot !  " 

Oakes  turned  to  Moore.  His  arm  made  that  quick, 
silent  movement  so  peculiarly  his  own  and  rested 
lightly  on  the  physician's  shoulder. 

"  The  shooting  you  heard,"  he  remarked. 

Moore  turned  pale  and  seemed  almost  to  stagger. 
"  Meant  for  me !  "  he  blurted  out. 

"  Yes,  and  Martin  got  it  instead,"  said  Oakes. 
"  Come ! "  and  in  an  instant  he  was  off  down  the 
road. 

We  followed,  and  the  crowd  of  about  thirty  closed 
in.  It  was  a  quick  dash  down  that  turnpike.  Never 
had  early-riser  in  Mona  had  such  an  experience  be- 
fore. The  terrific  flight  of  the  milk-wagon  and  its 
dramatic  ending  had  inspired  life  in  the  crowd. 
Hotel  porters,  barmen  and  milkman,  gentlemen  and 
loafers,  all  went  down  that  road  with  one  object  in 
view — the  succoring  of  a  fellow  being.  As  we  ran, 
the  strongest  forged  ahead.  Moore  and  myself  came 


66  Quintus  Oakcs 


abreast  in  the  rear  of  the  leaders,  but  near  to  the 
bunch. 

"  Terrible  !    Poor  Martin !  "  said  Moore. 

"  Keep  quiet,"  I  said  between  breaths. 

A  murmur  arose  in  the  crowd.  "  Look  at  that 
fellow,"  said  a  runner  near  us. 

We  looked.  It  was  Quintus ;  he  was  steadily  dis- 
tancing all.  "  Gosh !  Ain't  he  a  beaut  ?  "  said  an- 
other. 

"  Look  at  Oakes,"  said  I. 

"  Shut  up,"  said  Moore.    "  Call  him  Clark,  now." 

The  heavy  breathing  around  us  became  notice- 
able; men  were  tiring  now.  It  was  a  hard  run. 
Away  up  in  the  lead  was  the  solitary  figure  of  our 
friend,  running  with  body  pitched  a  little  forward 
and  the  long,  even  stride  of  the  athlete.  My  mind 
now  recalled  that  Oakes  was  a  runner  in  college — a 
noted  one  in  his  day.  Swish,  swish !  thump,  thump ! 
went  the  feet  of  those  around  us — and  always  that 
tall  figure  in  the  lead,  taking  the  ground  like  a  thor- 
oughbred, and  steadily  increasing  the  distance  be- 
tween us. 

As  we  reached  the  crest  of  the  hill  to  turn  down, 


The  Murder  67 


the  milk-wagons  were  beginning  to  rumble  behind  us 
arid  the  sounds  of  the  approaching  crowd  of  vehicles 
and  belated  citizens  became  distinct.  We  dashed 
down  the  slope  and  beheld  Oakes — in  the  lead — halt, 
and  bend  over  a  figure.  He  seemed  to  be  speaking 
to  the  injured  man.  As  we  drew  near,  we  saw  the 
blood  and  heard  the  sighing  breathing. 

"  Dying !  "  said  Moore,  by  my  side. 

We  all  encircled  the  victim,  and  Dr.  Moore  bent 
over  him.  Then  he  and  Oakes  straightened  up  sud- 
denly, and  removed  their  hats.  We  all  knew  what 
had  taken  place.  The  motley  crowd  uncovered,  pant- 
ing and  pale-faced. 

"  Dead !  "  said  Oakes,  and  turned  to  Moore,  who 
had  joined  me  in  the  crowd. 

"  Be  careful,"  he  said.  "  The  murdered  man  is 
not  Martin." 

The  rougher  of  the  followers  started  to  move  the 
body,  so  as  to  see  the  face. 

Again  Oakes  showed  his  power  to  lead.  "  Stop, 
men;  this  is  a  crime.  Don't  touch  the  body.  Wait 
for  the  police  and  the  coroner." 

They  obeyed.     The  first  official  now  arrived  on  a 


68  Quintus  Oakes 

wagon.    He  hesitated  as  he  saw  the  bloody  back ;  and 
then  turned  the  face  eo  that  all  could  see  it. 

Several  stepped  forward,  and  a  cry  of  consterna- 
tion arose :  "  It's  Winthrop  Marie!  " 


CHAPTER   VII 

The  Inquest 

At  the  suggestion  of  Oakes,  we  mingled  with  the 
crowd  for  a  short  time  and  then  returned  to  the  town 
with  some  of  the  hotel  employees,  leaving  the  others 
in  their  excitement  to  await  the  action  of  the  author- 
ities. 

"  This  man  Winthrop  Mark  seems  to  have  been 
very  well  known  ? "  Oakes  inquired  of  the  hotel 
porter  by  his  side. 

The  latter,  anxious  to  identify  himself  with  the 
town  and  its  people,  and  also  to  please  the  stranger 
beside  him  who  had  made  himself  so  prominent  dur- 
ing the  last  few  moments,  gave  much  information. 

"  Yes,  Mr.  Clark,  the  murdered  man  has  lived 
hereabouts  for  a  long  time;  his  brother  owns  the 
Mark  Mansion  over  yonder;  the  town  has  been  very 
proud  of  it,  you  know." 

"  Yes,  a  beautiful  old  place." 


70  Quintus  Oakes 

"  It  is,  sir.  But  no  place  to  live  in;  there  has  been 
something  dangerous  about  it,  sir." 

"  Seems  to  me  I  heard  something  of  it  when  I  was 
last  in  Mona,"  said  Oakes. 

"  Did  you  have  any  experience,  sir  ?  " 

"  Experience !    What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  know,  sir,  but  it  always  appears.  Some- 
thing that  scares  people." 

"  Hurts  the  town,  doesn't  it  ?  " 

"  Yes,  indeed,  sir ;  and  this  murder  will  spoil 
everything  here  now." 

"  I  cannot  quite  follow  you." 

"  Oh,  sir,  you  don't  know  how  good  Mr.  Mark  was : 
Always  improving  the  roads ;  always  giving  the  town 
money;  forever  clearing  up  jealousies,"  said  the  por- 
ter. 

Oakes  looked  at  him :  "  Say,  my  man,  how  long 
have  you  been  a  porter  ?  You  don't  speak  like  a  man 
brought  up  in  such  work." 

"  I  was  not,  sir.  I  used  to  be  a  merchant,  years 
ago ;  burned  out ;  no  insurance ;  broke ;  went  to  work 
as  a  porter;  nothing  else  to  do.  The  old  story,  Mr. 
Clark ;  I  am  not  the  first  one !  " 


The  Inquest  71 

We  knew  Oakes  was  seeking  some  information,  so 
we  remained  quiet. 

"  Sad  enough,"  said  he ;  "  perhaps  times  will  im- 
prove for  you." 

The  porter,  Reilly  by  name,  smiled  and  looked  at 
Oakes  with  that  expression  of  hopeful  despair  we 
have  all  seen,  we  who  rub  the  world  in  our  continu- 
ous efforts. 

"  Who  could  have  shot  Mr.  Mark  2 "  asked  our 
companion,  "  did  he  have  many  enemies  ?  " 

"  No,  Mr.  Clark.  I  know  of  none.  But "  and 

the  man  paused. 

"  Well,  what  ? "  said  the  detective  in  an  offhand 
waj. 

"  Well,  it's  peculiar,"  said  Reilly,  "  very  peculiar 
to  me.  Two  or  three  years  ago,  sir,  Smith,  the  lead- 
ing man  of  the  town,  was  shot  at  the  very  same  spot 
in  the  road." 

"  What !  "  I  cried ;  but  a  look  from  Oakes  silenced 
me.  "  Indeed !  quite  a  coincidence,"  said  he.  "  Who 
shot  him?" 

"  Nobody  knows.  I  was  just  going  to  work  when 
it  happened." 


72  Quintus  Oakes 

"  Early  in  the  day,  then  ?  " 

"  Just  about  six  o'clock,  sir — and  he  was  shot 
right  through  the  chest,"  volunteered  our  informant. 
"  Well,  I  hope  they  catch  this  fellow,"  said  Oakes. 
"  You  have  a  good  police  chief  here." 

"  Yes,  sir,  very.  He  came  up  here  first  for  his 
health;  but  he  was  once  chief  in  some  large  city." 

"  Ah,  then  he  will  get  the  murderer  surely.  Mona 
is  fortunate  in  having  such  a  man." 

Reilly  looked  pleased  at  the  compliment,  and  it 
seemed  as  though  Oakes  had  won  another  follower. 

Before  we  reached  the  hotel,  we  saw  that  the  town 
was  now  wide  awake.  There  were  groups  of  men 
talking  excitedly  before  nearly  every  business  place 
— the  bank,  the  dry-goods  stores,  drug-stores  and 
newspaper  offices.  It  was  about  their  opening  hour, 
and  rumor  had  travelled  fast. 

On  the  main  street,  Oakes  left  us  with  a  word  of 
caution.  "  Be  careful  what  you  say.  There  may  be 
a  connection  between  this  affair  and  the  Mansion 
mystery,  but — we  know  nothing  of  either.  The  in- 
quest may  tell  us  something.  Meantime,  you  two 
find  out  what  you  can  by  mingling  with  the  crowd. 


The  Inquest  73 

Learn  all  about  Reilly;  and  anything  you  can  pick 
up  of  the  Smith  murder  he  mentioned.  I  am  going 
to  see  the  Chief  of  Police;  and,  if  possible,  telephone 
to  my  office  in  New  York." 

Moore  and  I  walked  around  in  the  fast-increasing 
crowd,  and  talked  with  those  who  were  returning 
from  the  scene  of  the  murder. 

The  people  were  settling  down  into  a  dull,  sullen 
silence,  as  people  will,  after  a  great  tragedy.  This 
was  a  blow  to  the  inhabitants  here.  The  death  of 
Mr.  Mark  was  the  loss  of  a  friend  to  many,  and  of 
a  leading  citizen  to  all.  Those  engaged  in  business 
in. what  had  been  until  recently  a  most  prosperous 
little  town  foresaw  the  probable  after-effect  on  con- 
fidence and  the  town's  future. 

The  demon  of  vengeance  was  rising  in  many 
hearts.  The  report  of  the  coroner's  jury  was  awaited 
with  anxiety.  The  murderer  would  probably  have 
escaped  by  that  time — but  better  so — if  once  his 
identity  could  be  discovered,  than  have  another 
mysterious  horror  in  the  community. 

The  police  headquarters,  a  trim  little  brick  build- 
ing facing  the  square  and  the  hotel,  was  the  centre 
of  real  activity. 


74  Quintus  Oakes 

Oakes  made  his  appearance  alone  at  the  top  of  the 
steps  coming  out  from  the  corridor  that  led  to  the 
Chief's  room.  As  he  stood  at  the  door  glancing 
calmly  around  at  the  crowd,  I  thought  what  a  mag- 
nificent man  he  was.  He  stood  erect  and  composed, 
as  though  inviting  scrutiny.  His  long  overcoat  was 
not  carefully  closed — its  collar  was  turned  partly 
up.  He  had  put  it  on  like  the  rest  of  us,  after  our 
return  from  the  run,  and  he  had  done  it  quickly. 
His  left  hand  was  hanging  down  in  a  natural  posi- 
tion; his  right  was  in  his  overcoat  pocket.  The 
Fedora  hat  was  slightly  tilted  back.  He  looked  a 
half -careless,  indifferent  fellow,  but  the  keen  eyes 
missed  nothing;  they  rested  on  me,  on  Moore  and 
then  on  the  crowd.  He  was  the  embodiment  of 
searching  coolness.  The  crowd  recognized  him  and 
knew  that  he  had  seen  the  Chief  of  Police.  They 
reasoned  as  one  man  that  something  important  had 
been  done.  The  tall  city  fellow  had  been  first  at 
the  side  of  the  victim;  they  had  seen  that.  What 
did  he  know?  And  then  they  thought  of  that  run 
and  the  exhibition  of  physical  perfection  that  his 
powers  had  shown ;  and  like  a  gentle  ripple  on  the 


The  Inquest  75 

brook  came  a  murmur  of  admiration.  Oakes  stepped 
down  and  was  the  centre  of  much  questioning.  All 
the  time  the  right  hand  remained  in  the  coat  pocket. 
I  knew  that  it  held  death  at  command;  that  the  re- 
volver lay  well  in  his  grasp;  that  Quintus  Oakee  was 
now  on  guard,  and  the  field  was  one  with  which  he 
was  well  acquainted. 

Soon  he  entered  the  hotel,  and  we  followed  him  to 
his  room.  "  You  must  be  at  the  inquest — both  of 
you.  Dr.  Moore,  you  are  well  known  as  a  surgeon 
and  will  view  the  body  with  the  local  doctors.  They 
wish  you  to  do  so.  They  say  you  are  known  to  them 
by  reputation.  You  will  be  required  as  an  expert 
witness.  I  have  made  my  identity  known  to  the 
Chief  of  Police." 

"  Indeed,"  I  said ;  "  then  everybody  will  know  it." 
"  No,  they  won't,"  said  Oakes.  "  The  Chief  knows 
me  by  name.  I  know  all  about  him;  he  is  a  good, 
shrewd  man.  I  have  explained  our  mission  here,  and 
have  disclaimed  any  desire  to  have  anything  to  do 
with  this  mystery,  unless — unless  it  touches  the 
other.  The  Chief,  Hallen,  wants  my  evidence,  and 
he  knows  enough  to  see  that  we  can  all  stand  in  to- 
gether." 


76  Quintus  Oakes 


"  He  may  help  in  the  Mansion  affair  later,"  said 
Moore. 

"  Yes,"  said  Oakes.  "  I  thought  I  might  need 
him.  Anyway,  this  murder  is  for  the  police  at  pres- 
ent I  succeeded  in  getting  long-distance  telephone, 
and  found  that  Martin  did  not  come  here  at  all.  He 
returned  to  the  office  after  seeing  Dr.  Moore  off  on 
the  train." 

"  Good !  "  we  exclaimed.  "  And  what  did  you 
learn  from  the  dying  man?  He  spoke  to  you,  we 
thought." 

"  I  learned  something  that  has  great  possibilities," 
said  Oakes.  "  Wait  for  the  inquest.  What  have 
you  learned  ? " 

I  answered  for  us  both :  "  Reilly  is  well  known 
here  and  reliable.  We  could  learn  nothing  of  the 
Smith,  murder  save  that  it  had  occurred  about  as  this 
one,  and  was  never  solved.  The  old  Chief  of  Police 
resigned  on  account  of  public  opinion  of  his  incom- 
petency;  the  new  Chief,  Hallen,  came  in  here  a  year 
or  so  ago." 

"Well,"  said  Oakes,  "so  far — so  good;  but  it 
looks  to  me  as  though  there  is  some  connection  be- 


The  Inquest  77 

tween  these  murders.  I  do  not  envy  the  local 
officials  a  bit;  the  people  won't  stand  much  more 
mystery  up  here.  Suspicion  of  one's  neighbors  is  a 
terrible  thing  in  a  small  community.  By  the  way, 
when  I  give  my  evidence,  watch  me  but  little — 
watch  the  audience  more.  The  criminal  might  be 
there!" 

"  Yes,"  said  Moore,  turning  to  me ;  "  they  often 
seek  the  court  under  such  circumstances,  don't 
they?" 

"  I  believe  it  has  been  recorded,"  I  rejoined.  Then 
seeing  Oakes  move  away,  I  asked  where  he  was 
going. 

"  I  am  going  to  look  around  for  a  while." 

"  Better  be  cautious;  you  may  be  the  next  to  get 
a  bullet,  for  the  criminal  probably  knows  that  you 
saw  Mark  alive.  He  may  be  anybody  in  town,"  I 
said. 

"  Anybody !  Nonsense.  You  may  clear  the 
women  and  children  at  least.  That  wound  was  made 
by  a  heavy-calibre  weapon;  it  takes  strength  to 
handle  such." 

Then  he  walked  away. 


78  Quintus  Oakes 

The  coroner  empanelled  the  jury  that  afternoon. 
It  was  composed  of  milkmen,  porters  and  farmers, 
and  some  men  of  more  substantial  condition;  for 
instance,  the  leading  banker  and  the  secretary  of  the 
Young  Men's  Christian  Association.  They  were  all 
alert  to  the  importance  of  their  position,  and  anxious 
to  appear  well  in  this  drama  that  was  opening  in 
Mona. 

The  jury  viewed  the  body  in  the  anteroom,  and 
the  wound  was  examined  carefully.  They  marched 
into  the  court-room  next  to  the  apartments  of  the 
Chief  of  Police,  and  were  seated  before  the  bench. 
The  large  room  was  filled  to  its  utmost  with  the  rep- 
resentative men  of  the  place.  To  my  eyes,  the  scene 
was  novel  indeed.  My  practice  had  been  in  the 
courts  of  the  metropolis,  and  the  methods  here  inter- 
ested me.  They  were  simple,  straight-forward  people. 
The  intensity  of  their  faces,  the  hush  of  the  crowd, 
was  awesome.  I  obtained  a  seat  facing  most  of  the 
people,  and  Dr.  Moore  was  by  my  side. 

The  room  looked  on  a  lawn  which  extended  to  the 
next  street,  and  opposite  to  me  were  three  windows, 
the  centre  one  of  which  was  open.  At  the  open 


The  Inquest  .       79 

window  was  a  young  negro,  handsome  and  well  built. 
He  leaned  on  the  sill  with  folded  arms,  and,  judging 
by  the  height  of  the  window  from  the  ground,  I 
knew  he  was  standing  on  a  box  or  a  barrel.  A  couple 
of  other  faces  were  visible  outside  the  closed 
windows.  The  crowd  within  was  uneasy,  but  quiet — 
a  volcano  in  its  period  of  inactivity. 

Then  the  milkman  who  discovered  the  body  related 
his  story.  He  had  come  up  the  hill  from  the  station 
and  saw  the  body  near  the  top  of  the  hill.  He  saw 
the  wound  from  his  seat  on  the  wagon,  for,  realizing 
what  had  happened,  he  did  not  alight.  Fear  had 
seized  him.  He  knew  he  was  perhaps  watched  by 
the  assassin,  so  he  had  lashed  his  horses  and  rushed 
for  the  town  and  aid.  The  little  boy  who  had  ridden 
by  his  side  was  brave  and  cool  in  the  court-room; 
the  Chief  of  Police  had  his  arm  on  his  shoulder  in  a 
fatherly  way.  He  corroborated  the  milkman's  story, 
and  said  he  was  scared  even  more  than  his  uncle,  the 
driver. 

One  or  two  others  certified  to  the  finding  of  the 
body  and  spoke  of  the  stranger,  Mr.  Clark,  who  had 
reached  the  place  first,  and  of  the  wild  run  from  the 
town. 


80  Quintus  Oakes 


Then  came  the  coroner's  physician,  who  certified 
to  the  nature  of  the  bullet,  a  large  one  undoubtedly. 
Then  he  said  in  a  courteous,  professional  way: 
"  Gentlemen,  we  have  by  accident  among  us  Dr. 
Moore  from  New  York,  who  witnessed  the  finding 
of  the  body,  and  who  has  viewed  the  injury.  Dr. 
Moore  is  a  well-known  surgeon,  and  perhaps  he  will 
favor  us  with  an  opinion — only  an  opinion — of  the 
nature  of  the  weapon  used." 

The  coroner  bowed  and  motioned  to  Dr.  Moore, 
by  my  side.  The  physician  hesitated  a  moment,  then 
advanced  before  the  crowd  of  strangers.  He  was  a 
surgical  lecturer,  but  this  was  an  unusual  audience. 

"  Dr.  Moore,  you  have  seen  many  wounds  from 
firearms,  have  you  not?  Please  state  where." 

Dr.  Moore  answered  in  his  pleasant  voice :  "  I  have 
seen  quite  a  number  in  hospital  service  in  the  last 
ten  years,  and  very  many  in  Cuba  during  the  Span- 
ish War." 

A  murmur  arose — the  crowd  hung  on  every  word. 

"  State  what  your  opinion  is,  please,"  said  the 
.coroner. 

"  To  begin  with,"  said  Moore,  "  the  bullet  entered 


The  Inquest  81 

the  breast;  the  point  of  entrance  is  large,  about  the 
size  of  a  44-bullet.  I  know  it  entered  there,  because  a 
part  of  the  coat  was  carried  into  the  wound.  It  came 
out  at  the  back  under  the  right  shoulder-blade  and 
pierced  that  bone,  tearing  it  partly  away  from  its 
muscles.  In  piercing  the  bone  it  also  fractured  it, 
and  made  a  large  hole  of  exit,  as  was  to  be  expected." 

"  Explain,  please." 

"  Under  some  circumstances  a  bullet  losing  its 
speed  pushes  the  tissues  before  it  and  makes  a  larger 
hole  of  exit  than  entrance,  especially  if  it  shatters 
the  bone." 

"  What  do  you  think  of  the  nature  of  the  weapon 
used?" 

"  In  my  opinion  it  was  certainly  no  modern  pistol 
or  rifle;  they  are  of  smaller  calibre  and  the  powder 
used  gives  greater  velocity,  and  less  tearing  is  evi- 
denced." 

"How  is  that?" 

"  Well,  a  small  bullet  going  at  great  speed  makes 
a  clean  hole  usually,  at  ordinary  range.  This  was  a 
large  bullet,  going  only  at  moderate  speed." 

"  Could  a  rifle  have  done  it?  " 
6 


82  Quintus  Oakes 

"  Yee,  if  fired  at  a  long  distance,  so  that  the  speed 
was  slackening." 

"  What  seems  the  probable  weapon  to  you  ?  " 

"  A  revolver,  because  a  rifle  of  large  calibre,  to 
have  produced  such  a  wound,  must  have  been  dis- 
charged at  considerable  distance,  for  the  bullet  was 
losing  its  velocity  when  it  found  the  victim.  Now, 
to  have  seen  the  victim  from  afar  was  impossible, 
the  banks  on  each  side  of  the  road  and  the  incline  of 
the  hill  would  prevent  it.  That,  to  my  mind,  ex- 
cludes a  rifle. 

"  The  assassin  could  not  have  seen  Mr.  Mark  much 
more  than  one  hundred  and  fifty  feet  away,  owing  to 
the  configuration  of  the  ground.  Had  he  been  much 
nearer  than  that  distance,  the  bullet  would  have 
travelled  with  greater  speed  than  it  did,  and  would 
probably  have  pierced  the  shoulder-bone  without  so 
much  crushing  and  pushing  effect. 

'  Thus  we  see  that  a  rifle  in  this  case  could  not 
have  been  used  far  enough  away  to  cause  such  a 
wound.  A  heavy  revolver  discharged  at  good  dis- 
tance for  such  a  weapon  would  have  met  the  require- 
ments, however;  and  I  believe  such  a  one  was  used. 


The  Inquest  83 

The  assassin  could  not  have  been  farther  off  than  the 
configuration  of  the  ground  permitted — about  one 
hundred  and  fifty  feet — and  judging  from  the 
wound,  he  was  not  very  much  nearer." 

The  crowd  shifted  and  a  deep  sigh  of  emotion 
arose. 

"  Now,  Dr.  Moore,  you  arrived  in  town  this  morn- 
ing !  Please  tell  us  what  you  know  about  the  events 
that  transpired,"  asked  the  coroner. 

"  Well,  I  arrived  at  six  o'clock  A.M.  and  walked 
up  the  hill.  As  I  reached  the  top,  I  noticed  a  man 
coming  up  behind.  A  milkman  came  along  and 
offered  me  a  ride  to  the  hotel — there  he  is,"  and  he 
pointed  to  the  fellow.  "  As  we  rode  along,  we  both 
heard  a  shot,  and  I  remarked  upon  it.  The  man  in 
the  wagon  with  me  said  it  probably  was  a  poacher. 
I  have  no  doubt,  sir,  it  was  the  murderer  at  work." 

This  was  getting  near  the  horror,  and  the  court- 
room seemed  to  echo  the  deep  breathing  of  the 
listeners. 

Then  the  milkman,  who  had  picked  the  doctor  up, 
gave  his  testimony.  He  had  entered  the  highway  at 
the  Corners  and  had  seen  a  man  coming  up  the  hill. 


84  Quintus  Oakes 

He  drove  in  toward  Mona,  and  picked  up  Dr.  Moore, 
as  related. 

He  corroborated  Moore  in  his  statements,  and 
ended  by  saying  that  he  went  about  his  business  after 
leaving  Moore  at  the  hotel,  and  knew  nothing  of  the 
finding  of  the  body  by  the  other  milkman  and  the 
boy,  until  about  eight  o'clock. 

"  I  remember  the  shot ;  it  was  short  and  dulL  We 
said  it  didn't  seem  like  much  of  a  gun." 

"  When  did  you  hear  the  shot  ?  " 

"  About  6.30,  sir,"  was  the  answer. 

"  And,  gentlemen  of  the  jury,"  said  the  coroner, 
"  Mr.  Mark  lived  until  seven,  when  he  was  found. 

"  If  that  shot  was  the  one,  he  lived  a  long  time.  I 
believe  he  might  have  done  so,  however.  The  hem- 
orrhage was  not  very  severe.  He  may  have  lain  un- 
conscious for  a  while.  As  you  know,  the  autopsy 
showed  that  the  bullet  entered  in  front  and,  striking 
a  rib,  followed  that  around  and  came  out  behind.  It 
followed  a  superficial  deflected  course,  as  bullets  fre- 
quently do.  Men  sometimes  live  a  long  time  with 
such  wounds." 

More    evidence,  of  an  unimportant   nature,  was 


The  Inquest  85 

given.  The  station-master  remembered  the  man  get- 
ting off  the  train  and  following  Moore.  He  knew  him 
well ;  he  was  Mr.  Mark,  and  had  lagged  behind  and 
spoken  to  him. 

The  body  was  undiscovered  before,  because  most 
milk-wagons  entered  the  town  at  the  Corners,  and  no 
one  had  alighted  from  the  seven  o'clock  train  to 
climb  the  hill. 

Charles  Clark  was  now  called,  and  the  spectators 
made  room  for  Oakes,  as  he  walked  down  and  faced 
the  audience.  Watching  the  crowd,  I  saw  its  excited 
expectancy.  Here  and  there  was  a  man,  pale  as 
death,  nearly  overcome  by  the  strain  of  the  evidence. 
Everyone  in  that  room  knew  that  the  important  part 
was  at  hand.  Many  expected  the  name  of  the  assas- 
sin. A  man  behind  me  sighed  and  said :  "  Gosh  f 
why  don't  you  hurry  ?  "  I  knew  that  he  was  nearly 
ready  to  collapse. 

Oakes,  or,  as  Mona  knew  him,  Clark,  crossed  his 
hands  behind  him  and  inclined  his  body  a  little.  He 
glanced  coldly  around,  then  at  the  clock,  and  instinc- 
tively the  audience  followed  the  movement.  I  noticed 
that  the  time  was  four,  and  that  the  ticking  was  very 


86  Quintus  Oakes 


heavy  and  noisy.  Then  I  remembered  Oakes's  orders, 
and  watched  the  crowd.  The  coroner  went  through 
the  usual  formalities,  and  Oakes  began  his  testi- 
mony. 

He  spoke  in  that  fluent  style  of  his :  "  I  reached 
the  man  ahead  of  the  others;  he  was  breathing. 
Realizing  that  his  name  was  important,  I  asked  him 
for  it.  He  was  conscious;  he  opened  his  eyes  and 
looked  at  me.  '  Mark  is  my  name ;  all  Mona  is  my 
friend,"  he  answered.  At  mention  of  those  words  I 
heard  a  sob  and  then  another  outbreak ;  the  audience 
Avaa  going  to  pieces. 

Oakes  resumed :  "  I  then  asked  him,  {  Who  did 
this  deed  ?  "  He  seemed  to  be  losing  consciousness. 
I  repeated  the  question.  This  time  he  answered,  in 
an  almost  inaudible  voice :  '  The  man — the  man — .. 
with  the  great  arms.' '  As  Oakes  uttered  this  sen- 
tence, he  did  it  in  a  strong  whisper — heard  clearly 
all  over  the  court-room.  He  paused.  Moore  and  I 
noticed  that  one-half  the  men  in  sight  mechanically 
put  their  hands  to  their  arms — curious  is  the  effect 
of  such  scenes. 

Others,    seeing   the    actions    of   their    comrades, 


The  Inquest  87 

glanced  at  them  harshly  and  suspiciously,  but  in- 
stantly began  to  smile. 

Just  then  the  fat  grocer  thought  it  was  funny,  and 
laughed  outright  in  a  paroxysm  of  hysteria.  The 
crowd  began  to  titter,  and  then  a  roar,  short,  sharp, 
of  pent-up  emotion — a  laugh  of  suppressed  excite- 
ment— pealed  forth  like  a  thunder-clap;  then  all 
again  was  intensity. 

Oakes  now  continued :  "  He  did  not  say  more,  so 
I  again  asked  quickly,  '  Who  did  it  ?  Speak,  man ! 
Speak !  '  Then  he  answered  distinctly — it  was  a  last 
effort." 

The  audience  leaned  forward  in  awed  expectancy. 
The  faces  of  some  were  hard  and  set,  and  the  eyes  of 
all  were  riveted  on  Oakes. 

Moore  whispered  to  me :  "  Watch  the  negro."  I 
looked  and  saw  him  leaning  forward  over  the 
window-sill,  his  face  ashen  gray;  one  arm  held  on  to 
the  sill,  the  other  hung  limply  into  the  room. 

"  Mr.  Clark,  what  did  Mr.  Mark  say  to  you  then, 
just  before  he  died  ?  "  asked  the  coroner. 

"  He  said :  '  It  was  the  fellow — the  man  with  the 
blue  cross  on  his  left  arm.' '  As  Oakes  spoke,  his 


88  Quintus  Oakes 

voice  became  metallic  and  incisive,  while  his  quick 
eyes  suddenly  swept  the  audience. 

There  was  a  shuffling  of  feet,  a  turning  of  bodies, 
and  a  man  of  weak  nerves  cried  out :  "  The  blue  cross 
on  the  left  arm !  " 

The  negro  made  a  lunge  forward,  swung  both 
arms  into  the  room,  and  cried  out :  "  Oh,  Gawd !  Oh, 
Gawd !  "  then  dropped  on  the  other  side  of  the  wall. 

The  Chief  of  Police  stood  up  and  pointed  to  the 
window. 

"  Catch  that  coon,"  he  cried. 

The  tumult  which  followed  was  a  relief,  but  the 
crowd  lost  sight  of  the  negro.  No  one  had  ever  seen 
him  before,  and  he  escaped — at  least  for  the  time 
being. 

The  jury  brought  in  a  verdict  "  that  Mr.  Mark 
came  to  his  death  at  the  hands  of  a  party  or  parties 
unknown." 

As  Dr.  Moore  and  I  discussed  matters  later,  we 
could  but  agree  that  the  identity  of  Quintus  Oakes 
had  apparently  been  well  hidden  in  that  of  Charles 
Clark,  the  agent,  and  that  our  first  day  in  Mona  had 
been  a  memorable  one. 


CHAPTER   VIII 

The  Mansion 

Mona  was  situated  on  a  plateau  terminating 
rather  abruptly  at  the  river  on  the  west,  and  ele- 
vated well  above  its  waters.  In  the  neighborhood  of 
the  station  it  was  high,  and  a  long  climb.  A  mile 
farther  down  stream,  where  the  Mansion  sat  on  the 
edge  of  the  cliff,  the  elevation  was  not  so  great — per- 
haps a  hundred  feet  or  more  above  the  railroad 
tracks  by  the  river.  The  Mansion  end  of  the  plateau 
was  lower,  therefore,  than  the  town.  Beyond,  up 
the  river,  the  land  lay  at  the  same  elevation  as  Mona. 
The  beautiful  place  itself  was  some  distance  back 
from  the  crest  of  the  plateau  and  was  approached 
from  the  river  by  the  highway  we  had  known  so  well 
that  day.  This  was  intersected  at  right  angles  on  the 
plain  above  by  River  Road,  which  ran  parallel  to  the 
waters  below. 

The  junction  of  these  two  roads  was  known  as 
"  The  Corners."  Upon  following  River  Road  for 


90  Quintus  Oakes 

nearly  a  mile  toward  the  south  one  would  arrive  at 
the  Mansion  gate. 

The  other  road — the  Highway,  as  it  was  called — 
led  directly  to  Mona,  in  the  centre  of  the  plateau 
which  gradually  terminated  to  the  north,  south  and 
east  in  the  rolling  hills  of  that  region. 

Never  was  town  site  better  selected;  never  was 
place  more  hopeful  until  recently,  when  the  black- 
ness and  gloom  of  the  unoccupied  Mansion,  with  its 
tale  of  dread,  seemed  to  have  extended  to  men's 
minds  and  laid  its  grasp  of  uncanniness  and  uneasi- 
ness on  business  and  pleasure.  And  now,  to  make 
the  slough  of  despond  deeper,  had  come  the  sharp, 
quick  act  of  a  murderer — above  all,  an  unknown 
assassin — and  a  crime  similar  to  one  scarce  forgotten. 

The  Mansion  gate  opened  directly  from  River 
Road,  and  a  walk  of  about  two  hundred  yards 
brought  the  visitor  to  the  front  door.  The  back  of 
the  Mansion  faced  the  river  directly  to  the  west,  the 
balcony  of  the  back  parlor  and  dining-room  half- 
circled  the  south  and  west  sides  of  the  house,  and 
had  evidently  been  much  used.  The  woodwork  was 
old  and  the  flooring  quite  worn.  The  front  of  the 


The  Mansivn  91 


place  was  pillared  in  old  Colonial  style,  and  was  of 
stone,  hewn  in  the  rough  and  built  in  a  permanent 
fashion. 

Across  River  Road,  right  in  front  of  the  gate, 
caine  an  uneven  roll  of  the  country,  or  break  in  the 
plateau.  The  ground  billowed  deeply  for  at  least  a 
quarter  of  a  mile,  parallel  to  the  road.  The  slope 
from  the  road  was  gradual  to  a  little  pond  of  con- 
siderable depth  at  the  bottom  of  the  depression.  On 
the  farther  side  the  ground  rose  more  abruptly,  but 
not  so  high  as  on  the  Mansion  side.  The  pond  itself 
was  about  one  hundred  feet  in  width;  and  one  stand- 
ing by  the  Mansion  exit  could  see  both  the  pond  and 
the  ascent  beyond,  and,  over  the  crest  of  the  billowy 
ground,  the  distant  woods  and  the  country  to  the 
east. 

Down  from  the  road  a  little  path  dipped,  and  at 
its  foot  a  frail  bridge  crossed  the  pond;  for  here  the 
two  shores  were  quite  close.  Either  shore  projected 
into  a  point,  and  about  fifty  feet  of  bridge  had  been 
built  with  logs,  resting  half-way  on  a  rude  pillar  of 
stones  in  the  water.  This  bridge  continued  the  path 
up  the  far  slope  and  over  the  crest  beyond.  It  was 


92  Quintus  Oakes 

a  short  cut  to  the  country  and  the  southern  suburb 
of  Mona. 

Within  the  grounds  of  the  Mansion,  extending 
northward  to  the  Highway  and  the  scene  of  the  mur- 
der, and  southward  into  the  uninhabited  country, 
was  a  forest  of  oak  and  of  elm,  interspersed  with  an 
occasional  fir.  One  could  easily  wander  between  the 
trunks  of  these  trees,  but  having  entered  a  few  rods, 
all  traces  would  be  lost  of  the  outside  world.  It 
afforded  an  excellent  shelter  for  anyone  desiring  to 
escape  detection. 

We  noticed  all  these  points  as  we  drove  to  the 
Mansion  next  morning.  We  found  the  care-takers 
awaiting  us,  and  more  than  glad  to  again  see  Mr. 
Clark,  as  they  knew  Oakes. 

The  events  of  the  day  before  had  crowded  fast 
upon  us,  and  had  left  us  well  known  in  the  town. 
The  name  of  Clark  was  on  every  tongue.  Oakes 
remarked  that  morning,  before  we  started  for  the 
Mansion,  that  he  hoped  the  people  would  not  identify 
him,  "  If  they  do,  we  cannot  help  it,  however,"  he 
said ;  "  we  cannot  control  events  like  these."  Then 
he  .suddenly  asked  me :  "  How  about  that  negro  ? 
He  was  handsome,  you  say  ?  " 


The  Mansion  93 


"  Yes,  rather  black,  with  remarkably  clear-cut 
features." 

"Indeed!  Then  he  may  be  traced  through  his 
good  looks." 

"  Do  you  think  he  is  the  murderer  ?  " 

"That's  difficult,"  said  Oakes;  "but  I  should 
think  not.  Had  the  deed  been  done  by  a  negro  boy, 
the  victim  would  have  remembered  it;  they  are  un- 
common here.  He  would  have  said,  '  A  negro,  good- 
looking,'  or  something  of  that  sort.  His  color  would 
have  impressed  the  dying  man." 

"  Well,  why  was  the  negro  so  scared  ? "  I  asked. 

"  Probably  recognized  the  description  as  that  of 
someone  he  knew." 

"  Perhaps  not,"  said  Moore.  "  He  may  have  been 
just  emotional;  the  race  is  very  superstitious." 

"  If  I  make  no  mistake,"  continued  Oakes,  "  Mona 
is  going  to  see  queer  doings.  The  people's  minds  are 
at  a  great  tension.  In  any  event,  this  affair  is  not 
ours.  That  is — not  as  we  see  it  now." 

Our  welcome  from  the  servants  seemed  genuine  in 
its  sincerity,  and  Cook  and  his  wife  ushered  us  up  to 
our  rooms.  The  hall  from  the  front  door  was  a  long 


94  Quintus  Oakes 

one,  and  the  stairs  leading  to  the  upper  floor  was 
broad  and  well  carpeted.  Our  rooms,  two  in  num- 
ber, were  over  the  parlor  and  the  dining-room,  the 
latter  the  scene  of  the  occurrences  so  frequently 
described.  Oakes  was  given  the  back  room  looking 
on  the  river,  and  over  the  balcony;  Moore  and  I 
occupied  the  front  room,  over  the  parlor.  On  the 
other  side  of  the  hall  were  two  large  rooms — guest 
chambers,  we  were  told.  They  formed  the  roof  of 
the  dance  or  reception  hall  below — to  the  right  of 
the  door  as  we  entered — and  always  kept  locked,  as 
Annie  told  us.  In  fact,  the  dance  hall  and  the  two 
large  chambers  overhead  formed  the  north  side  of 
the  house  and  had  not  been  used  for  many  years. 
According  to  tradition,  the  hall  had  been  a  gay 
centre  in  the  years  gone  by,  when  the  Mansion  was 
the  leading  house  in  the  village.  It  had  now  lost  its 
prestige  to  new  and  magnificent  residences  of  the 
rich  New  York  men  of  affairs,  who  had  recently 
come  into  the  town  to  make  it  their  home  and  to 
transform  all  its  social  conditions  and  to  add  life  and 
new  energy  to  the  country  around. 

During  the  forenoon  we  examined  the  down-stairs 


The  Mansion  95 


rooms  pretty  thoroughly.  We  did  it  in  an  unostenta- 
tious manner.  The  rooms  had  several  windows,  and 
the  front  one  facing  the  road  in  the  distance  had  a 
large  fireplace.  Oakes  examined  this  carefully  and 
shook  his  head  in  a  negative  manner. 

The  back  room  facing  the  river  on  the  west,  the 
lawn  and  the  estate  on  the  south,  was  the  dining- 
room.  Its  four  large  windows,  two  on  each  side,  ex- 
tended down,  in  the  old  style,  to  within  a  foot  of  the 
encircling  porch.  Again  there  was  a  large  fireplace, 
and  I  looked  over  it  closely ;  but  it  was  solidly  built 
and  seemed  to  have  been  undisturbed  for  years.  The 
entire  room  was  paneled  in  oak,  and  this  appeared 
to  be  new. 

"  It  was  right  here  that  I  had  my  experience,"  said 
the  detective,  as  he  stood  by  the  windows  to  the  west. 

I  was  near  the  centre  of  the  room,  leaning  upon 
the  table,  and  Moore  was  farther  along  on  the  other 
side  of  the  fireplace,  near  the  eastern  wall.  We  were 
quite  interested  in  the  place,  and  I  am  sure  I  felt 
anything  but  secure. 

Dr.  Moore  laughed  in  his  careless  way.  "  Look 
out,  old  fellow,"  said  he,  "  it  will  catch  you  again." 


96  Quintus  Oakes 


Oakes  and  I  stepped  out  on  the  balcony,  through 
the  low-silled  window,  and  looked  across  the  river. 
I  heard  a  rustle,  I  thought — a  half -muffled  tread;  a 
swish,  a  peculiar  noise — and  Oakes  jumped  to  the 
centre  of  the  balcony. 

"  Look  out !    That's  the  noise,"  cried  the  detective. 

We  both  glanced  toward  Moore,  and  saw  a  terrible 
eight.  The  strong  man  was  unsteady  on  his  feet, 
his  knees  were  bent,  and  his  head  thrown  forward. 
Great  drops  of  perspiration  were  rolling  off  his  pale 
face.  He  looked  like  a  man  about  to  fall.  "  Help, 
for  God's  sake,  help !  "  he  cried,  and  clutched  at  his 
neck. 

That  instant  the  physician  came  across  the  room, 
hurled  by  terrific  force.  I  caught  him  as  he  fell,  and 
saved  him  from  an  injury  against  the  table.  He  was 
overcome  completely;  he  held  his  neck  in  a  pained 
position  and  groaned. 

Oakes,  weapon  in  hand,  advanced  to  the  hall.  We 
all  heard  a  distant  muffled  noise,  preceded  by  a  slam. 
At  that  instant  our  attention  was  called  to  the  bal- 
cony. A  figure  jumped  on  the  porch  from  the  west 
side  and  dashed  past  the  windows,  leaving  the  bal- 


The  Mansion  97 


cony  near  its  southern  end,  and  disappearing  in  the 
trees  beyond. 

"  A  man ! "  said  Oakes,  "  and  he  was  hiding  be- 
hind the  porch." 

"  Yes,  but  he  did  not  do  it ;  how  could  he  have  run 
there  so  quickly  ?  "  I  answered. 

"  Better  take  Moore  upstairs,"  saying  which, 
Oakes  jumped  from  the  room,  and  instead  of  going 
out  of  the  front  door,  he  sprang  to  the  west  end  of 
the  hall  near  the  dining-room,  and  opened  a  door  I 
had  not  noticed. 

"  Where  are  you  going? "  said  I. 

"Into  the  cellar.  Don't  follow,  unless  I  shoot." 
He  was  gone. 

I  partly  carried,  partly  helped  Dr.  Moore  up  to  his 
room  and  placed  him  on  the  bed.  He  was  pale,  and 
I  realized  he  was  shocked.  I  found  my  flask,  and 
gave  him  a  good  drink,  and  then  saw  that  the  back 
of  his  neck  was  bleeding.  I  bathed  it,  and  tied  it  up 
in  a  clean  towel. 

As  I  worked,  he  held  hia  revolver  in  his  hand  and 
watched  the  door,  talking  quickly  and  earnestly.  He 

told  me  about  how  he  had  wondered  if  Oakes  were 
7 


98  Quintus  Oakes 


insane,  then  of  the  assault  on  himself;  how  he  had 
heard  the  noise  and  had  certainly  been  attacked  by 
some  living  being,  and  was  satisfied  that  his  sus- 
picions could  not  be  correct.  He  had  been  thor- 
oughly converted.  All  this  took  some  time,  and  now 
we  were  wondering  what  had  become  of  our  friend. 
The  minutes  passed,  and  I  decided  to  descend  and 
see  what  the  servants  were  doing,  and  raise  an  alarm. 

Just  as  I  was  setting  off  we  heard  two  pistol  cracks, 
muffled,  but  the  noise  from  cartridges  such  as  we 
carried,  nevertheless.  I  grasped  my  weapon  and 
started  downstairs.  As  I  reached  the  top  of  the 
landing,  I  heard  the  cellar  door  close  with  a  bang  on 
the  floor  below,  and  heard  a  slow  tread  ascending  the 
stairs.  I  retreated,  so  as  to  aid  my  wounded  com- 
panion. 

The  tread  advanced  along  the  hall.  It  was  that  of 
a  man,  limping.  The  next  instant  we  recognized 
Oakes's  voice :  "  Where  are  you,  anyway  ?  " 

We  spoke,  and  the  next  instant  he  appeared  on 
our  threshold,  revolver  in  hand,  with  his  face  pale 
and  drawn,  and  his  figure  less  erect,  lees  self-reliant 
than  usual. 


The  Mansion  99 


He  was  bloody  from  a  wound  on  his  head,  and  his 
clothes  were  torn  in  shreds.  He  steadied  himself 
with  his  left  hand  against  the  door  frame. 

"  Great  goodness,  Oakes,  what  is  wrong  ? "  said 
Dr.  Moore,  rising  to  help  his  friend. 

"  What  the  devil !  "  I  exclaimed.  "  Where  have 
you  been  ? " 

"  In  the  cellar,"  said  Oakes. 

"  What  have  you  been  doing  ?  "  said  Moore,  in  a 
most  excitable  way. 

Back  came  the  answer  in  a  feeble  tone :  "  Really, 
I  don't  know.  Having  a  little  practice,  I  guese." 

"  Catch  him,  Stone,"  cried  Moore. 

I  jumped  forward,  and  the  stalwart  figure 
dropped  vertically — collapsing  at  the  knees,  then 
pitched  headlong  into  the  room. 

I  saved  the  face  before  it  struck  the  floor. 


CHAPTER  IX 

Distrust  and  Suspicion 

The  day  following  the  murder  of  Winthrop  Mark 
was  one  of  uneasiness  and  dejection  for  the  towns- 
people of  Mona.  The  court  scenes  of  the  day  before 
and  the  great  excitement  caused  by  the  discovery  of 
the  crime  had  left  their  stamp.  Disquietude  was 
bred  and  nurtured  by  the  crime  itself,  and  the  ab- 
eence  of  clues  save  those  of  the  arm.  It  was 
rumored  and  reiterated  that  Chief  Hallen  had  failed 
to  discover  the  slightest  evidence  as  to  the  per- 
petrator, and  that  the  bullet  even  had  remained  un- 
found,  as  was  most  natural;  but  people  look  at 
things  in  a  narrow  light  sometimes,  and  this  was 
an  occasion  of  deep  trouble  and  much  gossip  for  the 
town. 

The  peculiar  action  of  the  negro,  whom  few  had 
seen  but  all  had  heard,  and  who  was  pronounced  a 
total  stranger  by  those  who  had  seen  him,  pointed 
strongly  to  him  as  the  possible  assassin.  With  his 


Distrust  and  Suspicion  101 

escape  had  come  mutterings  against  Chief  Hallen. 
Why  had  the  court-house  not  been  watched  ?  Where 
were  the  local  authorities?  Why  had  he  been 
allowed  to  get  away  so  easily?  All  these  questions 
remained  unanswered,  for  few  stopped  to  think  that 
there  were  no  local  detectives,  and  only  a  few  local 
policemen. 

Then  in  the  midst  of  these  disgruntled  thoughts 
and  assertions  appeared  the  mental  picture  of  Clark, 
known  in  the  town  before,  and  now  the  most  conspic- 
uous man  in  it,  towering  above  all  in  his  active  per- 
sonality, as  in  his  figure  and  sayings.  Talk  is  cheap 
in  such  a  place,  and  talk  has  made  or  unmade  many 
a  man.  The  great  run  of  Clark  to  the  victim's  side 
and  the  dramatic  and  terrible  evidence  he  gave  at 
the  inquest  was  spoken  of — at  first  with  awe,  and 
then  with  alarm.  And  to  think  he  had  gone  to  the 
Mansion  to  spend  a  short  time  again,  gone  to  the 
place  of  all  others  that  one  should  avoid  at  this 
time — gone  to  the  house  where  terror  dwelt  and  at 
the  end  of  whose  grounds  the  murder  had  been  com- 
mitted! Hallen,  whose  word  was  known  to  be 
"  law,"  had  vouched  for  this.  The  personality  of 


102  Quintus  Oakes 

Clark — stood  silhouetted  on  the  sky  of  lowering  dis- 
content. 

The  only  clue  worth  having  was  that  one  relating 
to  the  arms  of  the  murderer,  and,  given  to  the  public 
as  it  purposely  had  been  by  Clark  in  a  moment  of 
suspense,  it  had  found  deep  rooting  place  in  all 
minds.  Who  was  the  man  with  the  great  arms,  and 
with  the  "  blue  cross  "  on  one  of  them — the  left  ? 

Here  was  a  small  town — perhaps  one  thousand 
grown  men.  Who  had  the  cross — who?  Might  it 
be  anyone?  Yes,  almost  anyone!  Did  anyone  know 
of  such  a  scar  ?  No,  but  who  knew  of  his  neighbor's 
arms  ?  Who  could  vouch  for  his  friend  ?  Some  few 
had  been  associated,  one  with  another,  as  boys. 
What  of  that  ?  It  was  years  ago. 

Suspicion  was  growing  like  a  prairie  fire,  first  a 
light  that  goes  out,  then  flickers  again  and  smoulders, 
anon  meeting  resistance  and  apparently  dying;  but 
all  the  while  treacherously  gaining  and  advancing 
in  the  roots  and  the  dry  stubble  below,  then  suddenly 
bursting  into  flame.  With  the  first  flame  comes  the 
inrush  of  air;  then  come  the  heat  and  the  smoke  and 


Distrust  and  Suspicion  103 

the  low  wall  of  fire;  then  the  glare,  the  roar  and 
the  conflagration  sweeping  all  before  it. 

So  came  suspicion  to  Mona.  And  friendship, 
respect  and  brotherly  love  fled  at  its  breath,  as  wild 
animals  of  the  prairie  flee  before  the  advancing 
destruction. 

By  evening  of  the  second  day  the  far-sighted  and 
most  influential  citizens  detected  the  condition  of 
affaire.  The  older  residents  had  noticed  the  peculiar 
similarity  of  this  murder  to  that  of  Smith.  The 
coincidence  of  time  and  place  was  another  factor. 
Could  it  be  the  same  assassin?  Had  he  dwelt  with 
them  all  the  while  since  ?  The  most  respected  and 
wealthy  of  the  inhabitants  shared  the  unenviable 
position  of  being  under  suspicion;  there  was  no 
relief  for  anyone. 

The  two  local  newspapers  published  "  extras,"  and 
could  scarcely  supply  the  demand.  The  murders  of 
Smith  and  Winthrop  were  reviewed  carefully,  and 
their  similarity  much  written  about.  The  hotel  and 
the  two  leading  business  streets  were  filled  with  sus- 
picious, muttering  groups. 

Nothing  had  been  found  missing  from  the  dead 


104  Quintus  Oakes 

man;  his  watch  and  money  were  untouched.  His 
arrival  by  such  an  early  train  was  not  unusual.  He 
frequently  went  to  New  York  for  an  outing,  and 
returned  before  breakfast  to  his  magnificent  place 
on  the  hill  to  the  east  of  the  town,  where  he  lived 
with  two  old  maiden  aunts — his  mother's  sisters. 

Now  all  this  uneasiness  and  suspicion  had  been 
noted — by  Hallen,  the  Chief.  He  was  a  man  who, 
after  living  in  the  country  for  many  years,  had 
finally  pushed  himself  to  the  top  of  a  large  police 
force  in  a  city  of  importance.  The  physical  strain 
had  told  on  him,  however,  and  now  he  found  himself 
back  in  a  small  town,  recovered  in  health,  but  shut 
in  as  to  future  prospects.  The  murder  of  Mark  had 
come  to  him  as  a  thunderbolt  from  a  clear  sky,  but 
he  saw  opportunities  in  it.  When  Oakes  had  visited 
him  and  made  himself  known,  he  had  at  first  been 
jealous ;  but  the  former,  with  his  wonderful  insight, 
had  made  a  friend  of  him. 

"  Hallen,  if  you  manage  this  affair  well,  you  will 
be  famous.  They  are  looking  for  good  men  in  New 
York  all  the  while.  My  work  is  in  the  Mansion; 
if  our  paths  cross,  let  us  work  together." 


Distrust  and  Suspicion  105 

So  had  suggested  Oakes.  He  had  known  about 
HaUen,  as  he  knew  the  history  of  all  police  officers, 
and  had  thus  given  hope  to  the  man  who  had  been 
used  to  better  things.  Instantly  Hallen  had  seen 
that  to  antagonize  Oakes  would  be  foolish;  to  aid 
him,  and  perhaps  obtain  his  advice  and  friendship, 
would  ultimately  redound  to  his  own  future  credit 
and,  possibly,  advancement  For  Oa.kes's  work  had 
brought  him  in  contact  with  police  heads  in  all  the 
large  cities.  His  boldness  and  genius  for  ferreting 
out  mysteries  were  known  to  them  all,  and  they  had 
paid  him  the  compliment  of  studying  his  methods 
carefully. 

Hallen  had  agreed  to  have  Oakes's  testimony  at 
the  inquest  taken  at  just  the  proper  moment  for 
effect,  and  had  agreed  to  call  Dr.  Moore  as  an  expert 

Of  course,  the  coroner  did  what  the  Chief  asked. 

As  Oakes  had  said :  "  If  you  want  expert  evidence, 
get  it  from  Moore ;  if  you  don't  ask  him,  you  won't 
get  it  in  Mona." 

The  idea  of  Oakee  bringing  in  his  testimony  as  he 
did  was  part  of  the  plan  to  watch  the  audience.  The 
planning  of  the  Chief  and  himself  had  accounted 


106  Quintus  Oakes 

for  the  somewhat  informal  presentation  of  the  evi- 
dence that  I  had  noticed.  In  rural  courts,  affairs  are 
not  conducted  as  they  are  in  the  city,  and  I  had  ob- 
served a  quick  swing  to  affairs,  hardly  accounted  for 
on  the  ground  of  practice.  I  recognized  the  hand 
of  Quintus  Oakes,  and  knew  that  the  scene  had  been 
carefully  manoeuvred. 

Hallen  sat  in  his  office  on  the  evening  of  the  day 
after  the  inquest,  reviewing  the  happenings  that  had 
crowded  BO  fast  in  Mona,  and  thinking,  not  without 
misgivings,  of  the  wave  of  suspicion  that  was  rising 
to  interfere  with  the  affairs  of  the  town. 

At  this  moment  the  editor  of  the  "  Mona  Mirror  " 
entered — a  whole-souled,  fat  individual,  breezy  and 
decidedly  agreeable.  He  was  one  of  the  natives,  a 
man  of  growing  popularity  and  decided  education. 
Dowd  was  his  name,  and  he  hated  that  fellow 
Skinner,  who  edited  the  rival  newspaper,  the  "  Daily 
News." 

Skinner  had  "  bossed "  things  in  a  free-handed 
fashion  until  Dowd  (a  clerk  in  the  post-office  until 
middle  life)  had  decided  to  enter  the  field  of  journal- 
ism— lees  than  two  years  before.  Dowd  was  inex- 


Distrust  and  Suspicion  107 

•4 

perienced,  but  he  was  bright,  and  he  wielded  a  pen 
that  cut  like  a  two-edged  sword;  and  the  love  that 
was  lost  between  the  two  editors  was  not  worth  men- 
tioning. 

As  Dowd  entered  and  found  Hallen  alone,  he  took 
off  his  hat  and  overcoat,  and  laughed  sarcastically. 
He  really  liked  Hallen,  and  was  on  intimate  terms 
with  him.  Hallen  looked  up.  "  Well,  what's  ailing 
you  now  ?  "  he  said. 

"  Oh,  nothing.  Only  this  town  is  going  loony, 
sure  as  fate,  Hallen.  What  are  you  going  to  do  ?  " 

Hallen  chewed  the  end  of  a  cigar  viciously.  "  I 
am  going  to  do  the  best  I  can  to  solve  the  mystery; 
if  I  cannot  do  that,  I  can  at  least  keep  order  here. 
Give  me  a  few  '  specials '  and  the  necessity,  and  I 
will  make  these  half-crazy  people  do  a  turn  or  two." 

The  burly  chief  turned  the  conversation  into  other 
channels,  but  Dowd  was  satisfied.  He  knew  the 
speaker  well. 


CHAPTER  X 

The  Cellar 

Meantime  our  first  experience  at  the  Mansion, 
previously  recorded,  bade  fair  to  be  a  serious  one. 
When  Oakes  had  collapsed  on  his  return  from  the 
cellar  Dr.  Moore  fortunately  was  sufficiently  recov- 
ered to  reach  his  side  in  a  few  seconds. 

"  Elevate  his  feet,  Stone.  He'll  be  all  right  in  a 
few  minutes ;  he  has  fainted." 

I  did  as  directed,  and  Moore  threw  the  half  of  a 
pitcher  of  water  on  the  unconscious  man's  neck  and 
face.  Gravity  sent  the  blood  back  to  his  head,  and 
when  the  water  touched  him,  he  gasped  and  pres- 
ently opened  his  eyes.  Then  we  carried  him  to  the 
bed. 

In  an  instant  he  attempted  to  rise,  but  the  Doctor 
refused  to  allow  it,  giving  him  instead  an  enviable 
drink  from  his  flask.  "  Keep  your  guns  by  you," 
said  Oakes,  "  and  give  me  mine." 

The  tension  had  told  on  me,  and  Moore  was  now 


The  Cellar  109 

by  far  the  best  man.  He  smiled  and  ordered  me  to 
take  a  drink  also,  and  to  sit  down.  I  obeyed,  for  I 
felt,  after  the  excitement,  as  limp  as  a  boy  after  his 
first  cigar. 

Dr.  Moore  was  examining  Oakes's  head.  "  Fine 
scalp  wound,"  said  he,  and  proceeded  to  sew  it  up 
and  dress  it.  His  pocket  case  came  in  handy.  He 
had  been  wise  to  bring  it.  "  Hurt  anywhere  else, 
old  fellow  ?  "  asked  he. 

"  No;  sore  as  the  devil  all  over,  that's  all,"  and 
Oakes  arose*  took  off  his  coat,  and  began  to  bathe 
his  face.  "  Keep  an  eye  on  that  door,"  said  he. 

I  was  myself  now,  and  took  my  chair  to  the  hall 
door,  sitting  where  I  could  command  the  head  of  the 
stairs  and  could  also  hear  anyone  who  might  ap- 
proach from  below. 

"  What  happened  ?  "  asked  Moore. 

"Well,  nothing  very  much,"  said  Oakes;  "only 
I  guess  I  got  a  mighty  good  licking." 

"You  look  it,"  said  I.  "Did  you  shoot  for 
help?" 

"  Yes,  I  did.  I  could  not  shout.  The  shots 
saved  my  life." 


110  Quintus  Oakes 

"  How  ?     Did  you  kill  anyone  ?  " 

"  Don't  know,  only  the  other  party  kindly  quit 
killing  me  when  I  began  to  shoot.  I  heard  some- 
thing drop,  however,  and  there  may  be  a  dead  body 
somewhere." 

The  shots  had  aroused  the  household,  and  we  heard 
shouting  and  cries  from  the  Cooks  and  from  Annie. 
Soon  they  appeared,  hunting  for  us,  all  distraught 
and  frightened.  They  said  they  were  in  the  kitchen 
when  they  heard  the  shots,  and  did  not  know  whence 
they  came.  This  was  probable,  as  the  cellar  was 
away  from  their  section.  Annie  cried  when  she  saw 
Oakes,  and  ran  out  to  bring  in  more  help.  One  of 
the  gardeners  returned  with  her,  and  as  he  came 
into  the  room  I  received  the  impression  of  a  silent, 
stern-looking  man,  past  forty  and  rather  strong  in 
appearance,  although  not  large.  He  had  seen  better 
days. 

v 

"  Ah !  "  said  he ;  "  ye  have  run  up  aginst  it  agin, 
sorr.  It's  nerve  ye  have,  to  go  nigh  that  room  after 
what  ye  got  last  time."  Oakes  looked  at  me  and  at 
Moore,  and  we  saw  he  wished  us  to  keep  silent. 

"  Yes !  I  shan't  try  it  again  in  a  hurry.  What's 
your  name  ?  "  he  asked. 


The  Cellar  111 

The  question  came  quick  as  a  flash.  I  knew  he 
was  trying  to  disconcert  the  fellow. 

"  My  name  is  Mike  O'Brien,  sorr,  gardener ;  you 
renumber,  'twas  me  that  helped  you  last  time,  sorr." 

"  You  mean  you  stood  by  and  let  the  others  help 
me,  Mike." 

We  knew  now  that  this  was  the  indifferent  gar- 
dener of  whom  Oakes  had  spoken. 

"  Thrue  for  ye,  sorr;  'twas  little  enough  I  did, 
and  that's  a  fact;  I'm  not  used  to  being  scared  to 
death  like  ye  be,  sorr."  Was  that  an  unintentional 
shot,  or  was  it  a  "  feeler  "  ? 

Oakes  had  a  sharp  customer  before  him,  and  he 
knew  it 

"  Where  were  you  when  you  heard  the  shots, 
Mike?" 

"  In  the  woods  at  the  front  of  the  house.  I  was 
raking  up  the  leaves,  be  the  same  token." 

"  What  did  you  see  ?  "  Oakes  spoke  in  a  com- 
manding voice  and  fingered  the  breech  of  his  re- 
volver in  a  suggestive  way. 

"  I  seen  a  shadow  come  out  av  the  cellar  door." 

"What  door?" 


112  Quintus  Oakes 


"  The  only  cellar  door;  near  the  side  av  the  house, 
sorr." 

"  What  sort  of  a  shadow  ?  " 

"  'Twas  the  shadow  av  a  man,  and  a  big  one.  The 
sun  cast  it  on  the  side  av  the  house,  sorr." 

Oakes  thought  a  moment,  then  arose  and  said: 
"  Step  here,  Mike,  and  point  out  the  side  of  the 
house  you  mean." 

Mike  hesitated.  The  other  servants  withdrew  at 
Oakes's  suggestion  that  he  wished  to  talk  with  the 
gardener.  The  latter  advanced.  We  felt  that  Oakes 
was  trying  to  spring  a  trap. 

"  The  side  of  the  house  where  the  cellar  door  is," 
reiterated  Mike. 

"  Nonsense,  O'Brien.  Your  story  is  impossible. 
The  sun  was  then  in  the  east  and  the  shadow  would 
Lave  been  thrown  on  the  east  wall.  There  is  no  door 
on  that  side;  it  is  on  the  west  side  of  the  house." 

O'Brien  looked  at  Oakes  defiantly. 

"  Yer  intirely  wrong,  sorr.  There  is  the  cellar 
door  to  the  east."  He  pointed  to  a  hatch,  opening 
about  forty  feet  from  the  house,  near  the  well. 
"  The  door  ye  saw  on  the  west  is  niver  opened — 'tis 
nailed  up." 


The  Cellar  113 

The  tables  were  turned.     Oakes  was  disconcerted. 

"  If  what  you  say  is  true,  you  have  my  apology.  I 
have  not  investigated  closely." 

"  So  I  thought,  son*,"  was  the  answer.  And  we 
all  wondered  at  the  amazing  coolness  and  self-pos- 
session of  the  man.  It  was  one  against  three,  and  he 
had  held  his  own. 

"  Sit  down,  Mike,"  said  Oakes.  "  How  long  have 
you  been  here  ?  " 

"  Only  a  matter  av  six  weeks.  I  came  from  New 
York  and  tried  for  a  job.  Maloney,  the  head  man, 
giv  me  wan." 

"  Where  is  Maloney  ?  " 

"  He  was  in  the  tool-house  whin  I  come  by,  sorr. 
He  didn't  hear  the  commotion,  being  sort  o'  deef." 

"  All  right,  Mike !  Stay  where  you  are  a  mo- 
ment." Then  Oakes  turned  to  us. 

"  Just  after  Moore  was  attacked  I  heard  a  sound 
like  a  quick  footstep,  and  having  certain  suspicions 
of  my  own,  made  a  dash  for  the  cellar.  I  found  there 
was  no  cellar  under  the  north  wing ;  but  toward  the 
west,  and  directly  beneath  the  dining-room,  was  a 
door.  As  I  opened  it.  all  was  dark;  but  my  eyes  soon 
8 


114  Quintus  Oakes 

accustomed  themselves  to  the  light,  and  I  made  out 
a  good-sized  chamber — and  what  I  took  for  a  man 
near  the  farther  end.  I  remained  silent,  pretending 
I  had  seen  nothing,  and,  closing  the  door,  made  a 
movement  back  up  the  cellar  stairs.  There  I  waited 
for  about  five  minutes.  The  ruse  worked.  The 
door  of  the  chamber  opened,  and  a  man,  dressed  in 
a  dark  cloak  and  a  mask,  partly  emerged,  and,  I 
thought,  started  for  the  other  stairs  at  the  west  end 
of  the  cellar.  I  jumped  and  grappled  with  him,  but 
he  struck  me  with  the  butt  end  of  a  revolver,  and  I 
was  dazed;  in  another  minute,  he  was  punishing  me 
severely.  I  fired  two  shots,  then  he  threw  me  away 
from  him  and  disappeared.  He  was  stronger  than 
anyone  I  ever  met,"  said  Oakes,  apologetically,  "  a 
regular  demon,  and  he  got  in  the  first  blow.  I  think 
I  wounded  him,  however." 

"  What  shall  we  do  ?  "  said  Moore. 

"  Go  quickly  and  investigate,"  was  the  answer. 
"  Here,  Mike,  you  lead  the  way." 

Mike  did  not  hesitate.  If  playing  a  game,  he  did 
it  well. 

"  Want  a  gun?  "  said  Oakes. 


The  Cellar  115 


"  No,  sorr,  not  if  youse  all  are  armed.  Guess  we 
can  give  him  all  the  scrap  he  wants." 

We  descended  the  stairs,  Oakes  last,  as  became  his 
condition.  He  touched  Moore  and  myself,  and 
pointed  to  Mike.  "  Watch  him ;  he  may  be  already 
armed/'  he  whispered. 

The  cellar  was  lighted  by  one  window  at  the  west- 
ern end.  A  door  at  the  same  end,  which  evidently 
led  to  some  stairs,  was  padlocked,  and,  as  Oakes  said, 
had  not  been  recently  opened.  The  dust  lay  upon  it 
undisturbed  and  the  padlock  was  very  rusty.  This 
corroborated  Mike's  story.  The  door  above  that 
opened  on  the  ground.  It  was  boarded  up,  he  said. 

No  means  was  found  of  passing  beneath  the  dance 
hall,  as  Oakes  had  said.  From  the  lay  of  the  ground, 
we  concluded  that  the  cellar  was  very  low  there  and 
not  bottomed — a  shut-in  affair  such  as  one  finds  in 
old  buildings  of  the  Colonial  epoch.  Across  the 
cellar,  to  the  other  side — the  south — the  same  thing 
pertained  except  at  the  western  extremity  under  the 
dining-room;  there  a  door  opened  into  a  cellar  room 
or  chamber. 

"  Here !  take  this,"  said  Oakes,  handing  Mike  a 
small  pocket  taper.  "  Light  it." 


116  Quintus  Oakes 

Mike  did  as  told,  and  stepped  into  the  room,  I 
after  him.  Oakes  held  the  cellar  door  open,  and  I, 
happening  to  look  at  him,  saw  that  he  was  watching 
Mike  as  a  cat  watches  a  mouse.  He  had  dropped  a 
match  at  the  moment,  and,  with  his  eye  still  on  the 
gardener,  stooped  to  pick  it  up.  His  hand  made  a 
swift,  double  movement,  he  had  the  match  and  some- 
thing else  besides;  but  Mike  had  not  observed,  and  I, 
of  course,  said  nothing. 

The  room  was  low  and  without  windows,  but  the 
air  was  remarkably  clean  and  fresh.  "  Plenty  of 
ventilation  in  here,"  said  I. 

"  Yes,  and  blood  too,"  said  the  gardener. 

Sure  enough,  the  floor  was  spattered  with  it. 

"  Mine,  I  guess,"  said  Oakes.  "  Moore,  kindly 
fetch  a  lamp  from  upstairs.  Ask  Annie  for  one." 

Moore  went,  and  soon  brought  down  a  small  lan- 
tern. We  could  hear  Cook's  voice  at  the  head  of 
the  stairs;  also  his  wife's  and  Annie's.  It  was  the 
long-expected  hunt  that  no  one  had  ever  before 
made,  and  which  might  clear  up  the  mystery  at  any 
time. 

By  the  better    light    we  saw    evidences  of    the 


The  Cellar  117 

struggle  that  had  taken  place — a  strip  of  Oakes's- 
coat,  and  a  piece  of  glazed  red  paper  an  inch  or  so 
long,  and  perhaps  half  as  broad — white  on  one  side, 
red  on  the  other. 

"Piece  of  a  mask,"  said  I;  and  Oakes  placed  it 
in  his  pocket. 

Dr.  Moore  walked  to  the  east  side  of  the  roomr 
where  he  and  I  saw  a  door  in  the  wall,  and  some 
plastering  on  the  floor  under  it.  Mike  was  busy  ex- 
amining a  heap  of  rubbish  at  the  other  end.  His 
conduct  had  been  most  exemplary.  Moore  turned 
the  light  on  the  door,  and  we  three  observed  it  for  a 
moment.  Mike  had  not  seen  it  distinctly,  if  at  all. 

"  Moore,  come  here,"  said  the  detective,  retreat- 
ing; and  the  Doctor  followed  with  the  light. 

"  Come  on,  Stone."    I  left  the  room  with  them. 

"  Curious !  "  he  heard  Mike  say  behind  us. 

"  What  is  curious  ?  "  asked  Oakes. 

The  smart  hired  man  answered.  "  Mr.  Clark,  the 
air  is  good  in  here.  Where  does  it  come  from  ?  " 

"  I  guess  we  have  learned  all  we  need  this  time, 
Mike,"  was  the  reply,  and  the  gardener  came  out 
reluctantly. 


118  Quintus  Oakes 


Oakes  had  seen  the  door  in  the  wall:  it  was  all 
he  wanted  to  know.  He  closed  the  outer  entrance  of 
the  room,  and  called  to  Cook  for  hammer  and  nails. 
The  man  brought  them  quickly;  then  the  leader  took 
a  board  that  was  standing  against  the  wall,  and  Mike 
and  Cook  nailed  it  across  the  door  from  frame  to 
frame. 

"  Mr.  Clark,  ye  will  have  the  devil  now,  sorr,"  said 
Mike. 

Oakes  took  a  pencil  out  of  his  pocket  and  wrote 
"  Clark  "  on  one  end  of  the  board ;  then  with  a  single 
movement  continued  his  hand  over  its  edge  care- 
fully, and  on  to  the  frame,  where  the  line  termin- 
ated in  a  second  signature — "  Clark." 

"  Anyone  removing  that  board  has  got  to  put  it 
back  to  match  that  line,"  said  Oakes,  "  and  that  with 
a  board  is  practically  impossible  where  nailing  has 
been  done.  Now  for  the  exit  that  opens  near  the 
well." 

We  went  back  through  the  cellar  hall  and  found 
at  the  east  end  a  door  ajar.  It  did  not  lock,  and  was 
hung  on  rusty  hinges.  Beyond  was  a  dark  passage. 

"Where  does  this  lead,  Mike?" 


The  Cellar  119 

"  To  the  opening  by  the  well,  sorr." 

"  How  do  you  know  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,  myself,  but  Maloney  said  the  out- 
side opening  by  the  well  led  into  the  cellar;  Cook 
says  so,  too.  'Tis  a  passage  they  used  in  wet  weather, 
sorr." 

"  Mike,  you  and  Cook  go  round  and  guard  that 
outer  door  by  the  well.  Open  it.  I'm  going 
through." 

"  Mr.  Clark,  don't  go  in  there  alone !  " 

"  I'll  attend  to  that,"  said  Oakes.  "  You  go  with 
Cook." 

The  two  went  to  the  well  and  lifted  the  hatch 
door.  As  they  did  so,  Oakes  held  a  lighted  match 
inside  one  end  of  the  tunnel.  It  blew  strongly  to- 
ward us;  the  air  was  rushing  in,  and  we  knew  the 
passage  led  to  the  opening.  We  heard  their  voices 
calling  to  us.  Dr.  Moore  spoke. 

"  Oakee,  you  shall  not  go  in  there ;  you  have  done 
enough  to-day;  you  are  a  wounded  man."  I  caught 
up  the  lantern  and  my  revolver,  and  Moore  followed. 

"  Hold  on !  "  said  Oakes.  "  You  are  in  the  most 
dangerous  part ;  don't  be  rash.  Here,  Stone,  you  go 


120  Quintw  Oakes 

first — and  Moore,  you  follow  about  ten  feet  behind, 
without  a  light,  in  order  that  you  may  be  undetected. 
Take  matches.  I'll  stay  here  with  the  taper,  and 
watch.  When  you  get  to  the  other  end,  don't  go  up 
the  steps  leading  to  the  ground  until  both  Mike  and 
Cook  show  themselves.  We  know  nothing  about 
them,  you  know.  Be  cautious.  The  man  we  want 
went  out  this  way,  whoever  he  is." 

I  threw  the  light  ahead  and  advanced  some  ten 
feet.  I  heard  Moore  following.  "  Careful !  "  said 
he  in  a  whisper. 

Again  I  threw  the  light  ahead,  and  beheld  only 
the  walls  of  the  square  tunnel.  I  could  hear  the 
breathing  of  Moore  behind  me.  I  knocked  on  the 
wall  here  and  there  with  my  revolver;  it  rang  true 
and  solid.  We  gradually  advanced  until  we  beheld 
the  daylight  and  saw  the  men  waiting  at  the  head  of 
the  stone  steps. 

I  ascended.  Moore  took  the  lantern  and  called 
back  to  Oakes,  addressing  him  as  Clark.  In  a  mo- 
ment he  came. 

"  Stay  where  you  are,  Stone,"  said  he  to  me. 
"  Come  here,  Mike." 


The  Cellar  121 

Mike  descended  willingly  enough.  I  watched 
Cook  and  looked  all  around. 

"  Open  that  door."  Oakes  pointed!  to  a  little 
wooden  opening  in  the  side  of  the  stairs.  Mike 
obeyed,  but  instantly  closed  it  again  with  a  bang. 

"  A  man !  "  said  he. 

Oakes  and  Moore  levelled  their  revolvers. 

"  Come  out,"  said  the  detective,  "  or  take  the  con- 
sequences. I  shall  shoot." 

Mike  opened  the  door  again,  hiding  his  figure  be- 
hind it  for  protection  as  it  swung  out.  I  expected  to 
see  some  one  shot,  but  Moore  threw  the  light  in,  and 
instantly  Oakes  dived  forward  into  the  alcove  ol 
stone.  We  could  hear  him  chuckle.  Cook,  at  my 
side,  was  standing  on  one  leg  in  his  excitement. 
Then  Dr.  Moore  burst  into  laughter. 

"What  is  it?  What's  the  matter?"  I  cried.  I 
could  not  see  very  well,  and  ran  half-way  down. 
Oakes  was  standing  beside  Moore,  trying  to  look 
grave.  In  his  hand  was  a  red  paper  mask  and  a  long 
black  robe! 

O'Brien  looked  on,  his  eyes  twinkling,  but  his  face 


122  Quintus  Oakes 

serious.  "  I'm  thinking  it's  lucky,  Mr.  Clark,  sorr, 
that  ye  saved  yer  ammunition,"  said  he. 

"  Yes,"  retorted  Oakes,  "  and  it's  still  more  for- 
tunate you're  a  good  actor." 

O'Brien's  somewhat  insolent  manner  changed  in- 
stantly to  one  of  civility,  and  Oakes  turned  to  us. 

"  No  wonder  some  said  there  was  a  woman  in  this 
affair." 

Then  he  ordered  the  hatch  door  nailed  down,  and 
handed  the  things  to  me.  "  Please  take  these  up- 
stairs, Stone;  we  must  investigate  this  more  fully," 
and  we  withdrew  to  discuss  our  findings. 

"What  do  you  think  of  O'Brien,  Oakes?"  I 
asked.  "  He  seems  to  be  a  cool  sort  of  a  customer." 

"  Yes,  he  is  no  ignoramus.  He's  a  shrewd  fellow, 
and  a  deep  one;  but  I  have  learned  a  few  things." 


CHAPTER  XI 

The  Night  Walk 

Events  were  following  each  other  rapidly  at  the 
Mansion.  After  leaving  the  cellar,  Oakes  led  us 
back  through  the  grounds,  around  the  south  side  of 
the  house.  There  was  no  entrance  to  the  cellar 
there,  apparently. 

When  we  reached  our  rooms  and  I  had  deposited 
the  mask  and  gown  on  my  table,  Oakes  turned  to  the 
care-taker,  Cook,  who  accompanied  us :  "  You  have 
been  several  years  here,  have  you  not  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Mr.  Clark." 

"  When  did  the  first  trouble  begin? " 

"  About  three  years  ago,  sir,  following  some  re- 
pairs that  were  made  after  Mr.  Odell  Mark  bought 
the  place  from  his  brother." 

"  What  do  you  know  of  those  repairs  ? " 

"  Well,  sir,  as  perhaps  you  have  noticed,  the  door 
from  the  dining-room  to  the  parlor  opens  on  a  short 
hall  about  three  feet  deep.  Now,  sir,  Mr.  Odell 


124  Quintus  Oakes 

Mark  had  the  wall  thickened  between  the  rooms; 
he  thought  it  was  weak,  and  this  hall  represents  the 
thickness  of  the  wall." 

Oakes  stood  at  the  window,  his  hands  in  his 
pockets,  looking  out. 

"  Did  you  see  that  wall  being  built  yourself, 
Cook?" 

"  I  didn't  notice  particularly,  sir." 

"  Well,  Stone,  we'll  try  the  simplest  theory  first. 
Will  you  kindly  go  with  Cook  up  to  the  roof  and 
look  around  carefully.  I  have  an  idea  that  the  wall 
is  double,  and  that  you  will  find  an  opening  up  there 
somewhere." 

We  went,  and,  as  Oakes  had  surmised,  soon  found 
a  small  opening  like  a  chimney,  grated  in  solidly  and 
protected  by  a  covering,  and  so  reported. 

"  Good  !  "  said  Oakes.  "  The  wall  is  double— in 
part  at  least — and  the  opening  was  carried  into  the 
cellar  room  and  a  door  placed  there." 

"What  for?"  said  I. 

"  Perhaps  to  ventilate  it.  We  may  find  some  other 
reason." 

"  We  seem  to  be  solving  the  mystery,"  was 
Moore's  comment. 


The  Night   Walk  125 

Oakes  looked  at  him  quizzically.  "  Are  you  satis- 
fied, Doctor,  that  there  is  a  physical  agent  at  work 
here?" 

Moore  grew  red.  "  Certainly,"  he  said.  And 
Quintus  smiled. 

"  I  thought  probably  you  would  be  eonvinced  in 
time.  A  thorough  licking  is  an  excellent  argument. 
It  is  my  belief  that  the  escapes  were  made  through 
that  double  wall,  and  that  we  shall  find  movable 
panels  in  the  dining-room." 

"  But  the  motive !  We  are  strangers ;  we  gave 
no  provocation,"  I  cried. 

"  We  have  yet  to  learn  the  motive ;  also  why  a 
man  should  wear  a  robe.  The  mask  is  sensible 
enough,  but  why  he  impeded  himself  with  a  robe  is 
beyond  us  as  yet.  It  would  hide  his  body,  to  be 
sure,  as  the  mask  would  hide  his  face,  but  it  would 
certainly  greatly  affect  his  chances  of  escape,  if  pur- 
sued. Cook,  why  was  no  investigation  ever  made 
before?" 

"  I  don't  know,  sir.     Mr.  Odell  was  very  timid." 

"  Did  you  ever  go  through  the  tunnel  to  the 
well?" 


126  Quintus  Oakes 

"  Yes,  sir.  I  used  to  go  before  the  mystery  be- 
gan, but  never  afterward." 

"  How  about  the  place  in  the  stairs  where  the  robe 
was  found  ? " 

"  That  was  always  there,  sir,  and  used  for  the 
gardener's  tools." 

"  Then  the  gardener  knew  of  it  ?  " 

"  Maloney,  the  older  one,  did,  I  am  sure ;  he  has 
been  here  a  long  time." 

"  Was  he  here  before  the  mysteries  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir,  he  has  been  five  years  on  the  place." 

"  Cook,  what  do  you  think  of  the  murder  of 
Winthrop  Mark?" 

It  was  one  of  those  sudden  questions  that  some- 
times bring  results. 

"  I  don't  know,  sir — it  is  terrible,  sir,  of  course." 

"  Where  was  Maloney  yesterday,  Cook  ?  " 

The  man  looked  long  at  us.  "  He  was  here  when 
I  got  up  at  six  o'clock,  raking  the  leaves  on  the  front 
walk." 

"  Indeed ! "  said  Oakes.  We  could  not  tell 
whether  the  answer  surprised  him,  or  not. 

"  I  suppose  Mike  worked  all  day  ?  " 


The  Night  Walk  127 

"  Yes,  sir,  he  was  about  on  the  place  the  entire 
time." 

Oakes  made  no  remark  whatever  at  this,  but  dis- 
missed Cook. 

"  We  cannot  go  too  far  in  presence  of  the  serv- 
ants," said  he,  "  for  I  am  only  Clark  the  agent  here, 
you  remember.  The  time  is  coming  when  we  may 
have  to  declare  ourselves  and  we  may  need  police 
help  to  make  arrests,  but,"  he  smiled,  "  we  have 
Hallen  as  a  friend,  I  guess." 

Oakes  was  calmly  sanguine,  I  could  see,  but  of 
course  he  did  not  know  that  collateral  events  were 
brewing  of  grave  importance  to  us  all. 

"  Now  for  the  robe  and  mask,"  said  he. 

I  handed  over  the  mask,  an  old  affair  and  consid- 
erably worn  from  usage.  A  piece  of  it  was  missing, 
•which  Oakes  replaced  with  the  fragment  of  paper 
picked  up  in  the  cellar ;  it  fitted  exactly,  settling  the 
fact  that  the  mask  had  been  worn  by  the  man  who 
fought  him  in  that  place. 

The  detective  looked  it  all  over  and  said :  "  This 
is  such  as  was  sold  in  New  York  years  ago.  It  is 


128  Quintus  Oakes 


ordinary,  and  offers  no  clue  as  to  the  owner  or  the 
place  of  purchase.  I  know  the  kind." 

The  robe  was  fairly  long,  and  made  of  old  velvet 
lined  with  satin,  quite  shiny  inside  and  out.  The 
name  of  its  maker  had  been  carefully  cut  away.  It 
was  spotted  with  blood — Oakes's,  no  doubt — for  it 
was  fresh. 

"  It  served  a  good  purpose  this  time,  anyway," 
said  I;  "  saved  the  man's  clothes  from  being 
marked." 

"  Medium  cheat  measure,"  said  Oakes.  "  Try  it 
on,  Stone." 

I  did  so,  and  it  just  met  around  me. 

"  Good !  The  fellow  who  wore  it  is  not  a  giant 
in  chest  measure,  at  all  events,  though  larger  than 
you,  probably,  since  he  wore  it  next  to  his  under- 
shirt" 

"  How  in  the  world  do  you  know  that,  Oakes  ? " 
said  the  doctor. 

"  Look  at  the  discoloration  of  the  lining  on  the 
shoulders,  and  also  across  the  chest  and  back.  The 
soil  is  old,  but  there  is  a  moisture  about  the  front 
yet,  the  moisture  of  fresh  perspiration — it  has  been 


The  Night  Walk  129 

used  quite  recently.  That  would  not  have  come 
through  a  coat  or  a  vest.  I  should  not  be  surprised 
if  ho  had  worn  it  over  his  naked  chest." 

"  Where  do  you  suppose  the  outfit  came  from  ? " 
I  asked. 

"  Probably  a  relic  of  some  masquerade  ball  of 
many  years  ago.  This  house  used  to  be  a  popular 
place  for  entertainments." 

"  What  did  you  pick  up  in  the  cellar  when  you 
stooped  for  the  match  ?  " 

"  Oh,  you  noticed  that  ?  See  for  yourselves,"  and 
he  showed  us  an  old-fashioned  heavy-calibre  car- 
tridge. 

"  And  how  about  the  closet  in  the  steps,  from 
which  you  took  the  robe  ? "  I  pursued. 

"  I  happened  to  see  the  door,  although  both  of  you 
missed  it.  The  person  who  hid  the  disguise  there  is 
quite  familiar  with  that  exit,  evidently.  That  nar- 
rows the  search  considerably,"  said  Oakes.  "  But 
the  robe  is  a  mystery;  it  is  a  senseless  thing  to  use 
under  such  circumstances." 

"  Yes — senseless ;  that  is  the  word,"   spoke  up 

Moore. 
9 


130  Quintus  Oakes 

Oakes's  eyes  searched  the  physician's,  but  the  lat- 
ter made  no  further  remark.  I  thought  Oakes  was 
sizing  him  up  as  pretty  far  from  "  senseless  "  him- 
self. 

We  now  examined  the  robe  more  carefully,  and 
saw  that  it  was  soiled  with  what  appeared  to  me  to 
be  soot.  Oakes  shook  his  head.  "  No,  it  seems  to  be 
wood  ash  of  some  kind ;  see  how  light  some  of  it  is," 
lie  said. 

He  ran  his  hand  along  the  inside  of  the  robe,  and 
found  a  small,  well-worn  slit — an  opening  to  a  deep 
pocket.  Instantly  he  turned  it  inside  out,  and  a  small 
roll  of  paper  dropped  from  it.  He  carefully  un- 
folded it  and  spread  it  on  the  table. 

"  It  is  a  piece  of  an  old  newspaper,"  said  he,  "  and 
has  been  read  much.  It  has  been  thumbed  till  it  is 
ready  to  fall  apart.  Read  it,  Stone.  Your  eyes  are 
best." 

I  studied  a  while,  and  then  began : 

" DAILY  NEWS,  October  30, 189-. — The  body  was 
found  face  downward,  on  the  main  Highway,  just 
below  the  crest  of  the  Mona  Hill.  It  was  first  seen 


The  Night   Walk  131 

by  John  Morney,  who  was  going  to  the  reservoir  in 
advance  of  his  gang  of  laborers.  They  were  in  sight 
when  he  discovered  it;  the  time  was  therefore  shortly 
before  seven.  The  men  were  going  to  work  at  6.30 
from  Mona.  They  recognized  it  instantly  as  the 
body  of  Orlando  Smith,  our  beloved  and  esteemed 
citizen.  Death  had  occurred  only  a  short  time  be- 
fore, and  the  murder  must  have  been  done  about 
daybreak.  It  was  evident  that  Mr.  Smith  was  re- 
turning from  his  factory,  where  he  had  spent  the 
night,  the  shift  having  been  doubled  recently,  owing 
to  the  pressure  of  business.  Later  examinations 
showed  that  the  bullet  entered  the  chest  and  was 
from  a  large  revolver,  a  44  or  45  calibre.  The  ball 
was  not  found. 

"  We  are  unable  to  give  any  more  particulars 
now,  before  the  time  of  going  to  press." 

"  That  is  all,"  I  said. 

We  remained  standing  while  we  thought  over  the 
matter.  There  was  a  satisfied  air  about  the  detec- 
tive that  I  could  not  quite  fathom,  and  Dr.  Moore 
seemed  to  be  quite  pleased  also. 


132  Quintus  Oakes 

"Well,  what  is  it?"  I  asked. 

With  a  voice  that  betrayed  traces  of  elation, 
Oakes  answered  me :  "  The  man  in  the  cellar  wore 
this  robe;  if  he  thumbed  this  paper,  the  murder  of 
Smith  interested  him.  The  murder  of  Mark  was 
similar,  and  I  believe  our  Mansion  affair  is  going 
to  involve  us  in  a  peck  of  unexpected  trouble. 
The  clues  are  showing  now,  and  we  must  know  more 
about  the  Smith  murder,  as  well  as  the  Mark  affair." 

"  Yes,"  put  in  Moore,  "  and  all  about  the  sus- 
pected motives  in  the  Smith  affair." 

Oakes  smiled.  "  Don't  be  too  previous,  my  boy. 
If  Hallen  looks  for  our  help,  well  and  good.  Other- 
wise, remember,  I  have  given  my  word  not  to  inter- 
fere with  his  search  at  present.  Meanwhile,  we 
must  get  into  town  and  look  around." 

"  You  must  remain  here,"  said  Moore.  "  You 
cannot  go  out  until  that  wound  begins  to  heal — in  a 
day  or  so." 

"  That  is  so,"  said  Oakes.  "  But  perhaps  Stone 
can  find  out  what  is  going  on." 

So  it  was  arranged  that  I  should  call  on  Chief 
Hallen  that  evening  and  spend  a  few  hours  in  Mona. 


The  Night  Walk  133 

At  supper,  Oakes  said  that  to-morrow  he  would 
have  men  from  the  city  who  would  make  a  complete 
search  of  the  walls,  and  perhaps  tear  down  some 
partitions.  "  Masons,  and  other  workmen,  you 
know,"  said  he ;  and  I  saw  a  twinkle  in  his  eyes  and 
realized  that  he  was  going  to  surround  himself  with 
men,  in  case  of  an  emergency. 

"  Are  you  expecting  trouble  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  No,"  said  he,  grave  again  in  a  second,  "  but  I 
believe  in  being  forearmed.  This  matter  is  capable 
of  developing  into  a  very  serious  affair  for  all 
hands,  especially  if  we  have  a  band  of  conspirators 
against  us." 

"A  tend /"said  I. 

"  Yes,  certainly.  Has  it  never  occurred  to  you 
that  there  may  be  several  desperate  characters  in 
this  affair  and  the  murder?  This  is  no  boy's  play; 
we  are  facing  unknown  dangers.  Now,  Stone,  go 
about  town  carefully,  and  send  this  cipher  to  New 
York  first  thing.  When  you  come  back,  tell  Chief 
Hallen  that  I  want  you  escorted  to  the  Mansion  by 
two  men.  Remember !  He  will  understand,  for  he 
spoke  to  me  of  the  advisability  of  giving  me  aid." 


134  Quintus  Oakes 

It  all  seemed  strange  to  me,  but  I  was  not  fearful 
when  I  left  just  at  seven  for  the  town. 

I  took  the  short  cut  over  the  bridge,  and  up  the 
hill  beyond,  and  they  watched  me  as  I  crossed  the 
rolling  plains  to  Mona. 

It  was  a  clear  night,  and  I  could  see  well  over 
the  hills,  the  three-quarters  moon  giving  me  excel- 
lent light.  I  could  not  help  thinking  how  careful 
was  this  man  Oakes,  and  what  a  peculiar  nature  was 
his;  alert,  severe  even  to  austerity  at  times;  then 
solicitous,  friendly  and  even  fond  of  a  joke.  I  was 
more  than  glad  that  I  came,  although  I  realized  that 
perhaps  it  was  foolish  to  interfere  in  such  affairs. 
Of  course,  that  murder  of  Mark  had  been  cast  upon 
our  notice  by  curious  circumstances,  and  unex- 
pectedly. 

As  I  walked  over  the  rolling  ground,  I  kept  my 
eyes  well  upon  my  surroundings;  but  not  a  living 
thing  did  I  see  except  myself  and  the  night  birds 
until  I  entered  the  town. 

There  was  an  air  of  subdued  excitement  about  the 
place.  As  I  walked  to  the  post-office  to  send  my 
despatches  the  loungers  seemed  numerous,  and  some 


The  Night  Walk  135 

were  amiss  in  their  greetings ;  others,  whom  I  knew, 
approached  in  an  affable  manner  enough,  but  there 
seemed  no  genuine  friendliness. 

The  telegraph  manager  took  the  cipher  and  smiled 
when  he  saw  it.  Then  he  said  to  me  in  a  whisper: 
"  Tell  Mr.  Clark  there  is  trouble  coming." 

To  my  look  of  surprise  he  answered :  "  Oh,  that's 
all  right;  I  had  a  visit  from  your  friend  before  he 
went  to  the  Mansion." 

Again  I  recognized  the  work  of  careful  Oakes, 
and  understood  why  he  did  not  hesitate  to  send  the 
cipher — a  thing  unusual  in  a  small  town. 

The  indications  of  impending  trouble  in  town  were 
quite  impressed  upon  me.  The  little  hotel  was  the 
centre  of  a  lounging  crowd,  large,  and  composed  of 
representative  men  as  well  as  the  usual  hangers-on. 
There  were  evidences  of  much  interest  around  the 
police  building  also — much  more  than  would  occur 
under  normal  circumstances  in  a  town  of  this  size, 
and  even  more  than  was  present  the  night  before. 

I  noticed  a  couple  of  brawls,  and  considerable 
raising  of  voices ;  many  men  were  walking  about  as 
though  watching  the  others.  The  prairie  fire  had 


136  Quintus  Oakes 

been  lighted ;  the  sparks  were  burning  near  the  roots 
of  the  grass ;  the  air  was  uneasy — ready  to  rush  in 
as  wind,  to  fan  and  feed  the  first  flame. 

I  visited  the  Chief,  who  was  with  his  subordi- 
nates. He  invited  me  into  the  private  room,  and 
then  said: 

"  Mr.  Stone,  I  am  doing  all  I  can  to  detect  this 
murderer  and  to  satisfy  the  public  demand  for  his 
apprehension,  but  the  clues  are  practically  worth- 
less. The  populace  is  uneasy  and  suspicious." 

Then  he  detailed  to  me  all  that  he  knew.  I  then 
told  him  how  the  people's  actions  had  impressed 
me. 

"  I  am  going  to  have  all  I  can  do  to  keep  order. 
I  am  going  to  ask  your  friend  Oakes  to  take  a  hand." 

"  He  will  do  it,"  I  said,  "  for  he  is  greatly  inter- 
ested." 

"  It  is  for  the  welfare  of  the  town  which  I  serve 
that  I  ask  him  to  join  me  in  this  matter.  Go  to  him, 
and  tell  him  I  shall  see  him  in  the  morning  if  pos- 
sible." 

I  wae  glad  that  affairs  were  taking  such  a  turn, 


The  Night  Walk  137 

for  I  knew  the  facts  in  our  possession,  and  that 
Oakee'e  counsel  would  be  valuable. 

I  then  requested  an  escort  of  two  men  to  accom- 
pany me  on  my  return  to  the  Mansion,  as  Oakes  had 
suggested. 

"  Certainly !  I  had  no  intention  of  letting  you 
go  back  alone,"  he  said ;  and  then  he  summoned  two 
of  his  men  clad  in  citizen's  clothes  and  introduced 
them  to  me.  "  Now  take  a  walk  to  the  outskirts, 
and  return  the  same  way  by  which  you  came.  My 
men  will  follow  you  at  a  short  distance." 

Before)  I  left  I  motiioed  my  companions — fine- 
looking  fellows  both  of  them — and  saw  the  tell-tale 
pouching  of  the  hip  pockets,  and  knew  that  we  were 
all  well  armed. 

"  In  order  not  to  attract  attention,  we  will  walk 
some  distance  behind  you.  We  will  keep  you  within 
sight  and  hearing.  If  we  fire  a  shot,  return  to  us." 

I  started  across  the  rolling  country,  and  saw  the 
two  figures  behind  me.  Why  were  they  so  careful  ? 
Why  did  they  not  accompany  me  ?  They  separated, 
and  -we  advanced,  I  myself  following  the  narrow 
path. 


138  Quintus  Oakes 

The  night  was  still.  I  halted  occasionally  and 
looked  back — a  dim  figure  would  halt  on  my  left 
and  on  my  right.  It  was  lonesome,  but  I  felt  I  had 
company. 

I  neared  the  slope  to  the  pond,  and  looked  down; 
there  was  nothing  visible,  and  I  began  to  descend 
with  an  easy  stride.  Although  nearing  the  Mansion, 
I  felt  an  unaccountable  dread.  This  was  the  try- 
ing part  of  the  journey,  and  my  followers  were  now 
invisible  to  me,  being  on  the  plain  above  the  crest  of 
the  hill.  I  gripped  my  revolver  firmly,  and  stepped 
rapidly  on  to  the  bridge;  but  as  I  did  so  I  heard  a 
pistol  shot  from  above,  and  knew  instantly  that  I 
was  in  danger — that  my  companions  had  signalled 
me  to  return. 

I  faced  about,  and  commenced  my  ascent  of  the 
hill. 

From  somewhere  near  a  voice  came  to  me  clearly. 
"  Run  for  your  life,"  it  said. 

I  could  see  nothing,  but  retreated  hurriedly,  and 
was  soon  with  the  others  at  the  top  of  the  hill. 

"  Why  did  you  tell  me  to  run  ?  "  I  panted. 

They  looked  at  me.    "  We  said  nothing,"  was  the 


The  Night  Walk  139 

answer ;     "  we  merely  signalled  you  to  come  back." 

"  Well,  someone  ordered  me  to  run  for  my  life." 

"  Ah !  "  said  they.  "  We  thought  we  heard  a 
voice.  We  saw  a  figure  at  the  other  side  of  the  pond. 
We  came  over  the  crest  cautiously,  and  he  did  not 
expect  us.  He  was  crossing  in  range  of  the  light 
from  the  Mansion  gate  when  we  detected  him.  So 
much  for  following  you !  " 

"  Well,  but  who  spoke  to  me  ?  He  could  not 
have  done  so;  his  voice  would  not  have  sounded  so 
near." 

"  No,  evidently  someone  near  you  was  watching 
him;  he  was  about  to  waylay  you,  and  the  watcher 
knew  it  and  warned  you." 

We  heard  a  commotion  and  saw  a  figure  dash 
from  the  bridge,  away  toward  the  north  end  of  the 
pond,  and  disappear. 

Then  another  figure  showed  at  the  crest  on  the 
River  Road  and  followed  him  at  breakneck  speed. 

"  See — the  man  on  the  bridge  was  the  fellow  who 
warned  you.  The  other  is  after  him.  He  won't 
catch  him,  however." 

"  Come !  "  I  cried ;  and  we  darted  down  and  over 


140  Quintus  Oakes 

the  bridge  to  the  road  above,  but  nothing  was 
visible.  Suddenly  a  couple  of  figures  emerged  from 
the  darkness  by  the  Mansion  gate.  We  recognized 
Oakes  and  Moore,  who  had  been  awaiting  us. 

We  related  the  circumstances  of  our  return  to  the 
Mansion  to  them. 

"  Yes,"  said  Oakes,  "  we  were  watching  the  man 
i 

near  the  road.  He  had  a  gun,  and  was  evidently 
waiting  for  you.  We  were  just  going  to  make  a  rush 
at  him  when  we  saw  you  run  back  at  the  signal." 

"  Who  was  he  ?  "  asked  I. 

"  I  will  answer  the  question  by  asking :  Who  was 
the  man  who  warned  you  ? " 

"  I  haven't  the  least  idea,"  said  I. 

"  You  see,  you  were  in  great  danger,  and  only 
that  man's  foresight  saved  your  life.  But  there  are 
two  unknowns  now — the  friend  and  the  enemy." 

We  watched  my  escorts  descend  and  croea  the 
bridge,  mount  the  ascent  and  disappear  over  the 
crest  toward  Mona.  Then  the  moonlight  silhouetted 
their  figures  for  an  instant,  as  they  turned  and 
waved  a  farewell. 


CHAPTER  XII 

The  Witness 

Mr.  George  Elliott,  aristocratic,  well-to-do  club- 
man and  all-round  agreeable  fellow,  lived  in  bach- 
elor apartments  on  the  upper  West  side  of  New 
York 

He  was  engaged  now  in  the  brokerage  business, 
but,  times  having  been  dull,  he  found  it  rather  diffi- 
cult to  occupy  himself  and  was  anticipating  taking 
a  vacation — but  where,  he  had  not  yet  decided. 

Events  were  shaping  themselves,  however,  to 
bring  him  into  the  happenings  at  Mona  as  one  of  our 
party. 

On  the  corner,  near  the  apartment,  was  a  boot- 
blacking  stand,  presided  over  by  one  Joe,  an  intel- 
ligent and  wide-awake  colored  youngster,  whose 
general  good-nature  and  honesty  had  made  him  pop- 
ular with  many.  Among  his  patrons  and  general 
well-wishers  was  Mr.  Elliott,  to  whom  Joe  had  taken 
a  particular  liking,  and  whose  opinions  the  young 


142  Quintus  Oakes 

negro  had  often  sought  in  an  off-hand  way;  for, 
despite  his  general  air  of  reserve  and  hauteur,  Elliott 
was  kindness  itself  at  heart,  and  a  man  who  could  be 
easily  approached  by  those  who  were  suffering  from 
worry  and  hardship. 

At  about  the  time  of  the  beginning  of  this  story, 
Joe's  mother  had  been  taken  sick  and  had  died  in 
Troy,  and  the  boy  had  gone  up  there  for  a  few  days. 

Then  he  had  gone  to  Lorona,  a  little  town  farther 
south,  and  from  thence  to  Mona  on  his  way  home 
to  New  York.  At  Mona  he  had  seen  a  terrible  thing 
— a  murder. 

Bewildered,  frightened,  overawed  by  his  fateful 
knowledge,  he  had  managed,  however,  to  reach  New 
York,  where  he  sought  out  Mr.  Elliott  for  counsel; 
he  knew  the  latter  was  kind  and  good  and  would  tell 
him  what  to  do.  Joe  realized  that  he  needed  advice 
— that  he  was  in  a  terrible  fix,  being  the  only  wit- 
ness, so  far  as  he  knew,  of  a  crime  of  the  worst  kind. 

As  Joe  told  Mr.  Elliott  the  things  he  had  wit- 
nessed, that  gentleman  realized  the  tremendous 
value  of  the  evidence  being  told  him. 

By  adroit  questioning,  he    determined    that  the 


The  Witness  143 


celebrated  Quintus  Oakes  was  in  Mona.  The  boy 
said  he  recognized  him,  for  he  had  frequently 
"  shined "  Mr.  Oakes's  shoes  in  times  past  on 
Broadway.  Elliott  realized  that  as  he  was  called 
Clark  at  the  inquest — according  to  Joe — the  people 
in  Mona  did  not  know  him  as  Oakee;  he  must  be 
travelling  under  an  alias,  on  important  business 
probably.  Elliott  also  grasped  the  fact  that  Oakes 
was  there  at  the  time  of  the  murder  by  coincidence 
only.  He  had  read  of  the  affair  in  the  evening 
paper,  but  only  in  a  careless  manner.  It  was  all  of 
deep  interest  now. 

What  should  he  do  with  Joe  ? 

If  he  allowed  the  boy  to  think  that  he  was  in  a 
tight  place,  he  might  run  away,  and  that  would  de- 
feat justice.  There  was  the  alternative  of  telling 
the  police ;  that  would  mix  himself  up  in  an  unpleas- 
ant affair,  and  Joe  might  not  be  believed — might  be 
falsely  accused  of  the  murder. 

Again,  he  knew  Mr.  Oakes.  He  had  seen  him 
at  the  Club,  and  he  did  not  desire  to  frustrate  what- 
ever investigations  the  detective  might  be  making. 

The  best  solution  would  be  to  find  Quintus  Oakes 


144  Quintus  Oakes 

and  tell  him.  He  certainly  would  be  able  to  give 
some  attention  to  the  murder,  even  if  not  in  Mona 
for  that  purpose.  Meanwhile,  he  himself  would 
hold  the  boy  at  all  hazards. 

With  skill  scarcely  to  be  expected  from  one  of  his 
easy-going  type,  he  told  Joe  to  remain  and  sleep  in 
his  flat  that  night  and  that  he  would  fix  things  for 
him.  The  terror-stricken  negro  was  only  too  glad  of 
sympathy  and  protection  from  one  of  Mr.  Elliott's 
standing,  and  complied;  for  he  was  at  the  mercy  of 
his  friends.  What  could  he,  a  colored  boy,  do 
alone  ? 

After  tired  nature  had  asserted  herself  and  Joe 
had  fallen  asleep  in  a  room  which  had  been  given 
him,  Elliott  called  up  Oakes's  office  by  telephone. 
In  less  than  an  hour  a  dapper  young  man  sought 
admission  to  the  apartment,  and  was  met  by  Elliott. 
He  introduced  himself  as  "  Martin — from  Oakes's 
place."  In  a  few  words  Elliott  explained  matters, 
and  Martin  said: 

"  Let  Joe  go  to  his  boot-blacking  stand  in  the 
morning.  Get  your  shoes  shined,  and  place  your 


The  Witness  145 


hand  on  his  shoulder  in  conversation,  so  that  he  can 
be  identified  before  you  leave.  Our  men  will  be  in 
sight.  Then  meet  me  at  the  elevated  station,  and 
we  will  go  to  Mona  together,  if  you  care  to  do  so." 

"Good!"  said  Elliott.  "I  am  willing;  I  will 
take  my  vacation  that  way." 

And  that  was  how,  several  hours  later,  Joe  went 
to  his  boot-blacking  stand,  feeling  secure  in  being 
near  friends,  and  oblivious  of  the  fact  that  strange 
eyes  were  watching  all  his  movements. 

A  little  later  Elliott  patronized  the  stand,  and  in 
leaving  placed  his  hand  on  Joe's  shoulder  and  said : 
"  Nobody  will  trouble  you,  old  fellow.  Don't  say  a 
word;  it  will  all  come  out  right.  I  will  back  you  to 
the  limit." 

And  after  that  several  pairs  of  eyes  watched  every 
movement  of  the  bootblack.  Several  affable  stran- 
gers gave  him  quarters  for  ten-cent  shines.  Joe  was 
not  in  the  police  net,  but  he  was  in  the  vision  of 
those  silent  men  whom  one  cannot  detect — those  ex- 
perts employed  by  men  like  Oakes.  Escape  was  im- 
possible for  the  negro. 


10 


146  Quintus  Oakes 

Joe  remained  in  good  spirits,  for  had  not  Mr. 
Elliott  befriended  him?  He  was  ignorant  of  the 
doings  of  those  brief  hours  when  he  slept. 

Elliott's  going  to  Mona  was  perhaps  unnecessary, 
but  he  felt  a  natural  curiosity  to  know  Oakes  better, 
as  well  as  to  see  the  outcome  of  the  case  and  the 
effect  of  the  evidence  the  negro  possessed.  He  was 
also  actuated  by  a  desire  to  do  all  he  could  to  establish 
the  accuracy  of  the  boy's  statement,  and  to  see  that 
he  obtained  as  good  treatment  as  was  consistent  with 
the  ends  of  justice. 

He  and  Martin  arrived  at  Mona  the  day  after  the 
murder — our  first  one  at  the  Mansion.  The  two 
stayed  at  the  hotel  and  studied  the  town,  finding  it 
impossible  to  go  to  the  Mansion  without  creating 
talk. 

As  Martin  said :  "  We  must  go  slowly  and  not  ap- 
pear too  interested  in  Oakes,  or  rather  Clark,  as  he 
is  known  up  here — so  the  office  informed  me.  So 
far  as  we  know  he  has  nothing  to  do  with  the  murder 
case,  and  we,  being  strangers  and  consequently  sub- 
ject to  comment,  must  be  guarded  in  our  actions.  I 
have  seen  and  heard  enough  to  realize  that  there  is 


The  Witness  147 


much  suppressed  excitement  among  the  people. 
We  must  communicate  with  Oakee  quietly,  and  find 
whether  it  is  wise  to  see  him.  He  may  not  desire 
our  presence  at  the  Mark  place." 


CHAPTER  XIII 

The  Plan  of  Campaign 

Next  day,  as  we  were  at  breakfast  at  the  Mansion, 
the  masonfi  and  carpenters  came.  Curiously  enough, 
one  of  them  brought  a  note  from  Martin,  asking  if  it 
would  be  convenient  for  him  to  bring  a  stranger, 
with  valuable  information,  to  see  Mr.  Cakes  that 
morning;  and  the  man  found  it  convenient  to  drop 
into  town  a  little  later  and  incidentally  to  meet 
Martin  and  let  him  know  that  Oakes  expected  him. 
Then  he  went  to  the  hardware  store  and  bought  a 
few  trifling  things,  as  any  carpenter  or  mason  might 
do. 

"  Looks  as  though  I  am  going  to  hold  a  reception 
this  morning,"  said  Oakes :  "  The  Chief  of  Police 
making  an  engagement  last  night  for  an  interview 
this  morning,  and  now  Martin  asking  for  another." 

"  What  is  Martin  doing  up  here  ?  "  asked  Moore. 

"  Well,  don't  get  impatient.  He  has  something 
important,  anyway.  Just  wait."  I  think  Moore 


Tlie  Plan  of  Campaign  149 

felt  aggravated  at  Oakes's  apparent  indifference.  Of 
course  it  was  simulated,  but  he  seemed  so  calm  and 
oblivious  of  the  mass  of  happenings  that  had  put 
Moore  and  myself  in  a  state  of  extreme  excitement. 

It  was  not  long  before  Martin  and  Mr.  Elliott 
were  with  us.  Oakes  received  Elliott  in  a  most 
agreeable  manner,  which  placed  us  all  at  ease.  He 
said  he  knew  Mr.  Elliott  by  sight,  and  esteemed  it 
greatly  that  he  should  extend  information  to  him. 
Also  he  was  sure  it  must  be  of  great  value,  since 
the  gentleman  had  travelled  all  the  way  from  New 
York  to  place  him  in  possession  of  it.  And  this  was 
said  before  any  information  was  given.  We  saw  that 
our  friend  was  a  diplomat. 

Quickly  Mr.  Elliott  gave  all  the  particulars  of  the 
negro's  confession,  and  the  detective  said :  "  If  I 
am  called  into  the  case  by  Chief  Hallen,  I  shall  want 
to  see  the  boy;  if  not,  the  information  should  be 
given  to  the  Chief,  as  the  matter  belongs  to  his 
jurisdiction." 

Looking  out  of  the  window  at  that  moment,  I 
espied  Hallen  coming  up  the  walk. 

"  Good !  "  said  Oakes.     "  Now,  Mr.  Elliott,  will 


150  Quintus  Oakes 

you  kindly  retire  with  Dr.  Moore,  while  Stone, 
Martin  and  I  hear  what  the  Chief  has  to  say." 

When  Hallen  came  up,  he  seemed  very  cordial, 
but  worried,  and  made  no  attempt  to  disguise  the 
fact  that  he  anticipated  trouble  with  the  unruly 
element  in  Mona  by  Saturday  night. 

"  You  see,"  he  said,  "  we  are  few  here,  and  I 
have  been  kept  busy  with  the  brewing  uneasiness  in 
town  and  cannot  handle  the  murder  affair  satisfac- 
torily. I  have  come  to  ask  you  to  help  me,  if  you 
are  sufficiently  at  leisure.  We  cannot  get  any  clues 
at  all,  save  that  the  man  was  killed  by  a  bullet  of 
large  calibre  in  the  hands  of  a  good  shot,  as  the  dis- 
tance from  which  it  was  fired  would  seem  to  show. 
The  road  has  been  searched  but  nothing  found,  and 
the  crowd  that  went  with  you  to  the  dying  man's 
side  trampled  away  all  clues  on  the  ground. 

"  My  men  have  reported  to  me  the  curious  affair 
of  last  night,"  continued  the  Chief.  "  I  suppose  you 
have  a  explanation  for  it;  in  any  event,  it  must  be 
followed  up.  The  people  must  be  diverted,  and 
more  must  be  done  at  once  than  I  can  do.  Will  you 
help  me  ? " 


The  Plan  of  Campaign  151 

"  Yes/'  said  Oakes.     "  Of  course !  " 

"  Hello,  what  ails  your  head  ? "  said  the  Chief, 
after  thanking  him. 

And  then  Oakes  told  him  as  much  as  was  neces- 
sary of  the  events  of  the  day  before. 

"  I  am  very  glad  your  carpenters  have  arrived," 
said  the  Chief ;  "  they  may  help."  He  smiled,  as 
did  Oakes.  They  understood  one  another — they 
were  in  similar  lines  of  business. 

"  Now  that  I  have  a  hand  in  this  thing,  let's  all 
get  acquainted,"  said  Oakes ;  and  he  called  in  Moore 
and  Elliott,  and  the  discussion  became  general. 

Elliott  was  admitted  unreservedly  to  our  councils, 
especially  as  Oakes  knew  that  he  held  the  keys  to 
the  conviction  of  the  assassin — the  witness. 

Oakes,  in  his  fluent  style,  acquainted  the  Chief 
with  the  fact  that  the  negro  was  already  under  sur- 
veillance and  that,  in  his  opinion,  he  should  be 
brought  to  Mona  for  further  examination. 

"  Yes,  but  we  must  smuggle  him  in.  It  would  be 
unwise  to  let  the  populace  know  we  have  him  now ; 
they  might  infer  he  was  the  murderer  and  violence 


152  Quintus  Oakes 

would  certainly  be  done  him.  At  present,  I  have  all 
I  can  do  to  keep  order  in  the  town,"  said  Hallen. 

Then  he  gave  a  lucid  account  of  the  wave  of  sus- 
picion and  of  the  evidences  of  nervous  tension  the 
citizens  were  showing. 

"  Why,"  said  he,  "  almost  every  man  suspects  his 
neighbor.  Life-long  friends  are  suspicious  of  one 
another  and  business  is  nearly  at  a  standstill.  One 
man  looked  at  another  in  an  absent-minded  sort  of 
a  way  to-day,  and  the  other  retaliated  with  a  blow 
and  an  oath,  and  asked  him  if  he  would  look  at  his 
own  arms — not  his  neighbor's." 

"  Yes,"  said  Oakes,  "  we  have  here  a  great  mental 
emotion — suspicion — to  deal  with,  which  may 
amount  to  a  public  calamity  unless  checked.  One 
must  always  take  account  of  the  actions  and  reason- 
ings of  communities.  Emotional  waves  rush  through 
them  as  through  individuals  sometimes.  Look  at 
history,  and  consider  the  waves  of  religion,  emo- 
tional in  character,  that  have  occurred.  Look  at  the 
unreasonableness  developed  in  our  own  country  from 
ignorance  and  fear,  when  witches  were  burned  at 
the  stake!" 


The  Plan  of  Campaign  153 

"  Oakes,"  said  Moore  with  a  smile,  "  you  seem  to 
make  mental  processes  and  conditions  as  much  of  a 
study  as  the  physician  does." 

"  Certainly,"  Oakes  replied.  "  It  is  most  impor- 
tant. Did  we  not  study  the  workings  of  a  criminal's 
mind,  for  instance,  we  would  often  be  baffled.  You 
see,  the  determination  of  the  probable  condition  of 
such  a  one's  mind  is  often  paramount,  especially  in 
such  a  case  as  this.  In  other  words,  was  the  motive 
one  that  would  naturally  sway  an  ordinary  healthy 
individual  under  the  conditions  appertaining  to  the 
crime — the  so-called  sane  motive  ?  Or  was  it  in  any 
way  dependent  upon  peculiarities  of  the  criminal's 
reasoning — a  motive  built  up  of  something  unreal, 
a  delusion  in  the  mind  of  one  not  in  his  right 
senses  ? " 

I  myself  had  frequently  had  cause  to  study  such 
mental  processes  in  the  practice  of  my  profession, 
but  I  was  amazed  at  the  knowledge  shown  by  Oakes, 
and  stated  in  such  a  broad,  untechnical  manner. 
The  man  was  no  ordinary  one,  to  be  sure,  but  I  had 
scarcely  expected  him  to  show  such  education  in 
these  matters. 


154  Quintus  Oakes 

I  now  recalled  what  Moore  had  once  told  me  of 
Oakes's  all-round  attainments. 

Dr.  Moore  broke  the  silence. 

"  You  are  a  lalapazooza,  Oakes." 

Oakes  did  not  notice  the  remark,  but  said :  "  I 
don't  know  what  other  men  do,  but  I  have  tried  to 
bear  in  mind  such  things." 

"  Yes,"  said  Hallen,  "  and  consequently  there  ie 
only  one  Quintus  Oakes." 

"  It  seems  to  me,"  continued  Hallen,  "  that  your 
work  here  at  the  Mansion  will  soon  lead  to  results, 
and  I  trust  that  you  will  find  time  to  consider  the 
murder  also." 

"  Gentlemen,"  said  Oakes  very  seriously,  "  from 
what  I  saw  after  the  Mark  murder  in  town  and  from 
what  you  report,  I  feel  that  Mona  is  in  a  very  serious 
plight.  I  shall  make  time,  Hallen,  to  do  what  little 
I  can." 

And  thus  Quintus  Oakes  became  the  leader  in  the 
unravelling  of  the  Mark  murder  mystery. 

After  a  few  remarks  of  no  particular  consequence 
and  a  more  or  less  general  conversation,  he  re- 
sumed: 


The  Plan  of  Campaign  155 

"  Suppose,  Chief,  that  we  now  smuggle  the  negro 
into  Mona  as  soon  as  possible,  and  bring  him  here. 
I  believe  that  if  Mr.  Elliott  goes  back  with  Martin 
and  they  explain  things  to  the  boy,  he  will  come 
without  much  trouble.  It  must  be  impressed  upon 
him  that  he  is  regarded  in  the  light  of  a  hero :  appeal 
to  the  innate  weakness  of  the  race — desire  for  flat- 
tery." 

"  I  believe  we  can  bring  him  here  easily,"  said 
Elliott,  "  for  he  has  confidence  in  me." 

"  If  he  refuses  to  come,"  said  Hallen,  "  we  can 
get  him  here  in  plenty  of  ways." 

"  Yes,"  said  Oakes,  "  Martin  knows  how;  leave 
it  to  him.  Only,  we  must  have  him  soon,  and  he 
must  come  here  by  way  of  another  station,  incognito, 
lest  the  people  become  too  excited." 

This  being  agreed  upon,  the  conversation  became 
more  general,  and  in  answer  to  questions  we  found 
that  Oakes  had  not  as  yet  formulated  any  solution  to 
the  mystery  of  the  identity  of  the  murderer.  As  he 
said,  the  affair  of  down-stairs  might  be  connected 
with  the  murder,  indirectly  or  directly,  but  as  yet 
we  had  not  had  sufficient  opportunities  for  studying 


156  Quintus  Oakes 

the  surroundings  of  the  house  or  the  life  of  its 
attaches  to  venture  an  opinion.  He  laid  particular 
stress  upon  the  fact  that  opinions  should  never  be 
formed  on  poor  evidence,  since  a  biased  mind  was 
incapable  of  appreciating  new  discoveries  or  new 
clues.  To  theorize  too  much  was  very  easy,  but 
sometimes  fatal  to  detection  of  crime.  He  preferred 
to  work  along  several  lines  of  investigation  before 
concentration  on  any  one  idea. 

"  The  affair  of  last  night,  in  my  estimation,"  said 
he,  "  is  one  of  very  grave  import.  Unquestionably, 
from  what  you  saw,  Stone,  and  from  the  evidence  of 
us  all,  there  were  two  men  near  the  place  you  were 
going  to  pass.  That  the  first  one  warned  you  and 
was,  in  a  sense,  a  friend,  is  mysterious  enough — it 
needs  solution;  but  that  the  man  who  warned  you 
should  have  run  away  and  been  pursued  by  the 
other  is  peculiar,  to  say  the  least.  The  signals  of 
your  companions  were  heard  by  the  man  at  the 
bridge  undoubtedly,  and  he  ran  to  escape  detection 
himself.  The  other — the  one  on  this  side,  who  was 
a  probable  assassin — would  under  ordinary  circum- 
stances have  run  away  when  he  saw  you  were 


Tlie  Plan  of  Campaign  157 

warned.  He  did  run,  but  it  was  after  the  man  who 
warned  you. 

"  To  my  mind,  the  explanation  is  this,"  continued 
the  detective.  "  The  man  at  the  bridge  is  friendly, 
but  cannot  expose  his  identity  or  risk  capture.  The 
would-be  assassin  was  convinced  that  the  man  who 
warned  you  knew  of  his  purpose.  He  therefore 
pursued  him — to  finish  him  in  self -protection." 

"  I  don't  see  why,"  said  Moore ;  "  he  could  have 
escaped  instead." 

"  Exactly,"  said  Oakes.  "  He  could  have  done 
so,  but  he  did  not  wish  it.  He  has  not  completed 
what  he  wants  to  do  around  here-  He  wished  to 
come  back,  and  to  do  so  with  safety  he  must  rid 
himself  of  the  one  who  knew  of  his  doings." 

"  Looks  as  though  he  was  planning  more  trouble. 
He  may  have  been  the  man  of  the  robe,  or  the  man 
with  the  arms,"  I  ventured. 

"  Or  both,"  said  Oakes. 

"  At  all  events,"  said  Hallen,  "  I  wish  that  we 
could  divert  the  minds  of  the  people  in  town;  the 
tension  is  great — too  great  for  safety." 

"  Perhaps,  Chief,"  said  Oakes,  "  that  you  and  I 


158  Qwntus  Oakes 


can  arrange  a  little  matter  that  will  distract  their 
attention  and  which  will  tend  to  make  them  believe 
that  progress  is  being  made." 

He  laughed  as  he  spoke,  and  we  knew  that  he  was 
thinking  over  some  little  scheme  to  help  Hallen 
back  into  popular  favor. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

Clues 

The  carpenters  and  masons  came  and  went  in  a 
very  business-like  way  all  that  morning,  while  we 
were  closeted  upstairs  with  our  companion  and  Chief 
Hallen. 

After  he  left  us,  Moore  and  I  walked  down  to  the 
gate  and  around  the  grounds,  leaving  Oakes  to  at- 
tend to  details  with  Martin.  Carpenters  were  very 
busy  around  the  dining-room,  carrying  in  boards 
and  implements,  and  examining  the  woodwork  and 
the  balcony. 

A  few  of  the  masons  were  about  the  grounds,  en- 
gaged on  small  details,  and  all  seemed  to  be  on  good 
terms  with  Cook  and  his  wife,  and  Annie.  Mike 
was  busy  at  one  end  of  the  garden,  and  Maloney  was 
not  far  off. 

"  This,  Stone,  is  to  be  a  day  of  events  here.  But 
things  are  being  done  very  quietly,  are  they  not? 
You  would  suspect  nothing  out  of  the  way — f  ar  less 


160  Quintus  Oakes 

a  hunt  for  a  murderer  or  the  investigation  of  a 
mystery,  would  you  ?  " 

"  No;  were  I  not  informed,  I  should  think  that 
Oakes  had  merely  a  gang  of  laborers  at  work." 

"  He  has  that ;  but  he  has  also  a  body  of  the  best 
detectives,  for  the  purpose,  to  be  had.  Maloney  and 
Mike  are  puzzling  him  considerably,  Stone ;  they  are 
very  close  to  one  another  always,  and  seem  quite  in- 
timate." 

"  Yee,"  I  replied.  "  I  have  noticed  it.  They  both 
show  a  great  deal  of  interest  in  these  alterations. 
Have  you  noticed  how  Maloney  is  watching  O'Brien  ? 
He  keeps  him  continually  in  sight." 

We  had  approached  the  front  door  of  the  Mansion 
as  we  spoke.  Oakes  was  standing  just  outside,  his 
eyes  likewise  upon  the  two  gardeners.  Our  last 
remarks  were  made  in  his  presence,  and  he  entered 
the  conversation  with  a  quiet  observation  to  the 
effect  that  Maloney  seemed  to  fear  that  Mike  might 
not  attend  to  his  business,  but  that  Mike  would, 
nevertheless. 

I  was  obliged  to  acknowledge  that  I  did  not  quite 
understand. 


Clues  161 

"  Oh,  Mike  is  a  good  laborer,"  he  explained ;  "  he 
needs  no  such  watching,"  and  there  seemed  to  be  a 
peculiar  significance  in  his  words.  They  were  stated 
in  a  slow,  indifferent  manner  that  caused  me  to  look 
at  the  speaker,  but  his  face  wore  the  inscrutable  ex- 
pression which  I  had  frequently  seen  before,  and  I 
learned  nothing.  I  knew  him  well  enough  by  this 
time,  however,  to  realize  that  something  was  taking 
shape  in  his  thoughts. 

"  Now,  let  us  go  inside,"  said  he.  "  After  lunch 
we  will  attack  the  final  solution  of  the  manner  in 
which  these  mysterious  assaults  were  performed. 
Like  all  such  things,  it  will  be  simple  enough,  I 
know,  and  the  point  remaining  to  determine  will  be 
not  how  it  was  done,  but  by  whom. 

"  I  feel  confident  that  that  door  in  the  cellar  room 
leads  upward  to  an  interspace  which  communicates 
with  the  dining-room  through  panels  in  the  walls. 
The  peculiar  noise — the  swish — that  I  heard, 
resembled  the  sudden  sliding  of  a  board,  and  it  was 
the  conviction  that  the  person  who  assaulted  Moore 
disappeared  into  the  wall  which  made  me  run  down- 
stairs. I  felt  sure  there  would  be  some  explanation 
of  it  below." 


162  Quintus  Oakes 

That  afternoon  a  systematic  search  of  the  entire 
house  was  made.  The  cellar  room  in  which  the 
assault  upon  Oakes  had  occurred  was  thoroughly 
lighted  and  examined.  The  heap  of  rubbish  which 
Mike  had  been  investigating  at  our  previous  visit 
proved  to  be  composed  of  plaster  and  bricks. 

The  wall  in  which  the  door  was  cut  was  found  to 
be  about  three  feet  thick,  and  one  of  the  founda- 
tions of  the  house.  It  was  solid,  save  for  a  chimney- 
like  opening  which  had  been  trapped  with  the  door. 
Above,  at  the  level  of  the  dining-room  floor,  the  great 
wall  ceased.  From  one  edge  was  continued  upwards 
the  original  partition  between  that  room  and  the 
next — the  parlor;  but  it  was  thin,  and  had  evidently 
been  recently  strengthened  by  another  wall,  slightly 
thicker,  and  built  from  the  opposite  edge  of  the 
foundation,  leaving  a  space  between  the  two.  Into 
this  space  entered,  at  a  certain  point,  the  opening 
from  the  cellar  room  below. 

It  was  a  peculiar  arrangement  As  Oakes  re- 
marked, the  new  wall  had  been  made  with  no  regard 
to  the  economizing  of  space ;  for,  had  it  been  built 
immediately  back  of  the  old,  considerable  room 


Clues  163 

would  have  been  saved  for  the  parlor.  One  of  the 
"  carpenters "  thought  that  the  original  idea  had 
been  to  utilize  the  space  for  closets.  The  only  other 
possible  use  for  it,  so  far  as  we  could  discover,  was 
the  one  which  Oakes  had  surmised — ventilation  for 
the  cellar.  Still,  to  our  ordinary  minds,  a  chimney 
would  have  answered  that  purpose  quite  as  well. 

A  little  further  investigation,  however,  showed 
the  top  of  the  foundation  wall  to  be  covered  with 
cement  well  smoothed,  and  the  walls  themselves 
were  plastered.  It  was  generally  conceded,  there- 
fore, that  the  first  idea  had  been  to  use  it  as  closet 
room,  which  could  easily  have  been  done  by  cutting 
doors  through  the  walls.  As  Oakee  said,  the  notion 
had  evidently  met  with  opposition  and  been  aban- 
doned, so  communication  had  been  made  with  the 
cellar  instead,  and  the  roof  opened  to  afford  venti- 
lation. 

The  opening  into  the  cellar  was  large.  A  man 
could  easily  enter  it,  and,  standing,  reach  the  top  of 
the  foundation  wall;  then,  by  a  little  exertion,  he 
could  raise  himself  into  the  intermural  space.  Oakes, 
Moore  and  I  proved  this  by  actual  experiment  and 


164  Quintus  Oakes 

found  that  the  passage  was  quite  wide  enough  to 
accommodate  a  man  of  average  proportions. 

I  have  said  that  the  dining-room  was  finished  in 
oak  panels.  These  had  been  reached  from  our  side 
of  the  wall  by  removing  the  bricks  and  mortar — the 
same  stuff  evidently  which  helped  to  form  the  rub- 
bish heap  in  the  room  below.  One  of  the  larger 
panels  had  been  made  to  slide  vertically.  It  had 
been  neatly  done  and  had  escaped  detection  from  the 
dining-room  because  of  the  overlapping  of  the  other 
panels.  Some  debris  still  remained  between  the 
walls. 

"  The  fellow  we  are  after  knew  of  the  space  be- 
tween the  walls  and  worked  at  the  panel  after  the 
repairs  were  completed,"  was  Oakes's  remark. 

"  How  do  you  know  that  ? "  asked  Moore. 

Oakes  looked  at  him  and  smiled,  then  said: 
"  Moore,  where  is  your  reasoning  ability  ?  Do  you 
think,  if  the  panel  had  been  tampered  with  at  the 
time  the  repairs  were  made,  that  the  debris  would 
have  been  left  behind?  No!  It  would  have  been 
removed  with  the  rest  of  the  dirt." 

We  had  gone  to  our  rooms  upstairs  while  the  men 


Clues  165 

were  hunting  through  the  tunnel  to  the  well.  They 
found  nothing;  everything  was  as  we  had  left  it 
after  our  adventures  there. 

It  seemed  to  us  that,  all  things  considered,  the 
work  on  the  panel  must  have  been  done  by  some- 
one within  the  household,  or,  at  least,  that  some  of 
its  members  must  have  been  involved  in  the  matter. 

"  It  may  have  been  accomplished  at  night,  how- 
ever, and  by  an  outsider,"  said  Oakes.  "  The  serv- 
ants' quarters  are  separate  from  the  house.  Anyonft 
might  easily  have  entered  the  cellar  by  the  tunnel 
route.  Still,  there  may  have  been  collusion  also." 

"  It  seems  a  nonsensical  idea  to  leave  the  debris 
in  the  cellar,"  I  said. 

"  No,  I  think  not,"  was  the  answer.  "  The  care- 
takers are  afraid  even  to  enter  that  place.  The  mis- 
creant knew  that  detection  would  be  probable  at  the 
hands  of  strangers  only." 

That  evening  Elliott  and  Martin  left  for  New 
York.  They  were  to  bring  the  negro  boy,  Joe,  to 
Mona.  Late  at  night,  before  we  retired,  Oakes 
asked  us  to  go  with  him  into  the  parlor. 

"What  for?"  said  I. 


166  Quintus  Oakes 

"  To  forge  another  link  in  the  chain — the  strong- 
est yet,"  he  said. 

"What?" 

"  Do  you  remember  the  cartridge  I  found  in  the 
cellar?" 

"  Yes,  yes ;  but  you  did  not  pay  much  attention  to 
it,  I  thought." 

He  looked  gravely  at  me.  "  Stone,  that  cartridge 
probably  corresponds  in  calibre  to  the  one  which 
was  used  in  the  murder  of  Mark." 

"  Ah !  "  said  Moore.  "  I  had  a  notion  of  that  my- 
self. Why  did  you  not  tell  us  your  opinion 
before?" 

"  Because,  when  I  found  it,  we  were  working  on 
the  Mansion  affair  only.  I  divined  the  value  of 
the  find;  but  why  should  I  have  mentioned  it?  I 
was  not  hunting  the  Mark  murderer  then." 

"  Quintus,  you  consummate  fox — you  worked 
Hallenwell!" 

"  Not  at  all;  business  is  business.  What  is  the 
use  of  gossiping?  There  are  no  ladies  to  be  enter- 
tained in  my  profession,  Doctor." 

He  led  the  way  to  the  parlor — we  meekly  follow- 


Clues  167 

ing — to  where  a  cluster  of  arms  hung  upon  the  wall : 
one  of  those  ornaments  of  crossed  swords,  guns  and 
a  shield,  so  common  in  old  houses. 

He  remarked  that  he  had  noticed  these  arms  on 
his  previous  visit.  He  looked  at  a  revolver  hanging 
across  the  shield,  with  a  pouch  beneath  it,  and  then 
suddenly,  in  surprise,  said :  "  Last  time  I  was  here, 
a  few  weeks  ago,  there  was  a  large  old-fashioned 
revolver  here  of  44  or  45  calibre.  I  remember  it 
well,  being  interested  in  fire-arms.  ^ 

"  This  one  now  here  is  of  a  similar  pattern  and 
appearance,  but  of  smaller  calibre,  and  newer." 
Look !  The  cartridges  in  this  pouch  are  of  about  45 
size;  they  belong  to  the  old  weapon  and  cannot  be 
used  with  this  one. 

"  Again,  some  of  them  are  missing;  there  were  at 
least  a  dozen  before,  now  there  are  only  three  or 
four.  The  old  revolver  and  some  cartridges  have 
been  taken  away,  and  a  newer  weapon  substituted." 

"  Indeed !     But  why  ?  "  said  Moore  sceptically. 

"  Partly  because  " — and  Oakes  was  decisive,  curt, 
master  of  the  situation — "  because  this  one  cannot 
be  loaded.  See ! "  He  then  tried  to  turn  the 


168  Quintus  Oakes 

chamber  and  showed  us  that  the  mechanism  was 
faulty. 

"  The  old  revolver,"  said  he  in  a  low  tone,  "  and 
some  cartridges  were  taken  away,  and  in  order  that 
its  absence  should  be  less  noticeable,  this  one  was 
left  here — it  being  useless. 

"  Now,  boys,  the  cartridge  I  found  down-stairs  on 
the  cellar  floor  is  a  45-calibre  and  belongs  to  those 
of  the  pouch  and  the  original  revolver,  as  you  see." 

He  took  it  from  his  pocket  and  showed  us  that  it 
did  not  fit  the  weapon  in  his  hand  but  matched  the 
cartridges  in  the  pouch.  It  belonged  to  the  old 
weapon. 

"  We  are  closing  in,"  said  I. 

"  Yes — the  man  of  the  robe  has  the  old  revolver 
and  cartridges;  he  took  them  within  the  last  few 
days,  finding  his  own  weapon  out  of  order.  It  is  he 
who  is  responsible  for  the  mystery  in  this  house — 
and  in  all  probability  it  is  he  who  shot  Winthrop 
Mark.  You  remember,  the  evidence  at  the  inquest 
showed  that  a  heavy  revolver  had  been  used — a  44 
or  45  calibre — exactly  such  an  one  as  the  old  weapon 
which  I  saw  here." 


Clues  169 

"  Excellent,  Oakes,"  remarked  Moore.  "  There's 
only  one  objection." 

"  Yes,  I  know,"  said  Oakes.  "  You  were  going 
to  ask  why  the  fellow  did  not  take  all  these  car- 
tridges and  put  his  own  in  the  pouch  to  match  the 
weapon  he  left  here." 

"  Exactly,"  said  Moore. 

"  Well,"  said  the  detective,  "  he  either  had  no 
cartridges  of  his  own  handy,  or  else,  like  all  crim- 
inals, however  smart,  he  tripped — the  brain  of  no 
man  is  capable  of  adjusting  his  actions  precisely  in 
every  detail." 

"  Guess  you're  right.  No  man  can  be  perfect  in 
his  reasoning,  and,  no  matter  how  clever  the  crim- 
inal, he  is  almost  certain  to  make  an  error  sooner  or 
later,"  said  Moore. 

"  Yes,  but  it  takes  peculiar  power  to  discover  it," 
I  chirped.  The  events  of  the  day  had  tired  me,  and 
my  mind  was  growing  confused.  I  desired  to  go 
to  bed. 

Oakes  smiled  slightly.  "  No,  Stone ;  it  takes 
study,  worry  and  patient  reasoning  to  discover  the 


170  Quintus  Oakes 

faulty  link  in  a  clever  criminal's  logic — that  is  why 
there  is  a  profession  like  mine." 

I  was  half  asleep,  but  I  heard  him  continue :  "  We 
may  consider  we  have  excellent  cause  to  look  for  a 
man  who  has  in  his  possession  an  ancient  revolver 
and  some  very  old  dirty  cartridges  covered  with 
verdigris,  like  these  here." 

"  Murder  will  out,"  I  interpolated. 

"  Yes,  eventually,  sometimes.  However,  it  is  easy 
to  say,  *  he  who  had  that  revolver  did  the  murder/ 
but  as  it  may  have  been  destroyed  since  then,  or 
thrown  into  the  river,  it  is  another  thing  to  find  the 
man." 

We  were  crestfallen.  Oakes  himself  looked 
wearied. 

"  I  wish  the  whole  Mansion  was  in  the  river,  and 
there  were  a  decent  cafe  round  here,"  protested 
Moore. 

"  You're  a  vigorous  pair  of  assistants,  I  must  say," 
said  Quintus.  "  I  have  some  samples  in  my  room. 
Come !  "  and  we  all  adjourned. 


CHAPTER  XV 

The  Ruse 

After  all,  however,  the  doctor  and  I  decided  to 
spend  the  night  at  the  hotel  and  acquire  any  infor- 
mation that  we  could  as  to  occurrences  in  town. 

We  chose  to  walk  along  the  River  Road  to  the 
Corners,  keeping  ourselves  on  the  alert  for  any 
treachery.  The  night  was  cool  and  bracing  and  the 
sky  cloudless.  As  we  journeyed,  the  moon  rose, 
throwing  its  rays  athwart  the  tangled  outline  of  the 
wood.  The  great  high  trees  were  just  beginning 
to  drop  their  leaves.  Occasionally  a  woody  giant, 
separated  from  the  rest,  would  fix  our  attention, 
standing  silhouetted  against  the  background  of  for- 
est— majestic,  alone,  like  a  sentinel  guarding  the 
thousands  in  column  behind.  An  occasional  flutter 
of  a  night  bird  or  the  falling  and  rustling  of  the 
dead  leaves  was  all  that  we  heard  as  we  walked 
rapidly  the  mile  to  the  Corners. 

As  we  were  about  to  round  into  the  Highway  and 


172  Quintus  Oakes 

leave  the  forest  of  the  estate  ..behind  us,  Moore 
grasped  my  arm,  and  led  me  to  the  deep  shadow  of 
a  tree  by  the  roadside. 

"  Hark !  That  sounds  peculiar,"  he  said.  We 
listened,  and  heard  a  thumping  sound,  repeated  at 
intervals. 

"  An  uneasy  horse  standing  somewhere  in  the 
woods  hereabouts,"  said  I. 

"  Yes.  What  is  he  doing  there  at  this  time  of 
night — and  in  these  particular  woods?  " 

We  consulted  together  and  waited.  Then,  hav- 
ing satisfied  ourselves  that  the  noise  came  from  the 
woods  of  the  estate  near  the  crest  of  the  hill,  we 
decided  to  investigate  as  quickly  as  possible,  and 
entered  the  forest  stealthily  and  with  but  little 
noise.  Unused  to  the  life  of  the  woods,  we  doubt- 
less made  more  rustling  than  was  necessary,  but  AVC 
were  favored  by  the  fact  that  the  trees  were  not 
very  close  together,  and  in  consequence  the  carpet 
of  dead  leaves  was  not  thick. 

Halting  behind  the  trunks  of  trees  occasionally, 
we  listened  for  the  sound  which  came  from  further 
within  the  wood.  Soon  we  came  to  an  opening — 


The  Ruse  173 

a  glade — perhaps  two  hundred  feet  from  the  road. 
The  moonlight  fell  upon  the  far  side,  but  on  the 
side  next  us  all  was  shadow — dark  and  sombre.  We 
stood  well  within  it  among  the  trees.  I  fancied  I 
heard  a  horse  whinny.  The  animal  was  certainly 
restive.  I  saw  the  doctor  take  out  his  revolver  and 
lie  carefully  down  behind  a  tree;  I  remained  stand- 
ing. We  both  waited;  we  were  within  a  few  feet 
of  one  another,  but  did  not  speak. 

Suddenly,  on  the  far  side  we  saw  a  figure  walking 
towards  the  shade  and  heard  him  say  a  few  words  to 
the  horse.  Quickly  he  led  the  animal  away  into 
what  appeared  to  be  a  path.  Moore  whispered  to 
me :  "  Watch  the  road ;  he  is  going  there." 

We  retraced  our  steps  and  soon  saw  the  horse 
appear  on  the  edge  of  the  wood.  He  was  a  large, 
powerful  animal,  and  seemed  to  act  as  though  he 
understood  what  was  expected  of  him.  The  man 
was  still  leading  the  horse,  but  was  now  also  speak- 
ing in  a  low  voice  to  someone  else,  who  disappeared 
toward  the  town  and  came  out  on  the  Highway 
further  down,  walking  rapidly  toward  the  village,  as 
any  belated  citizen  might. 


174  Quintus  Oakes 


"  See !  "  said  Moore.  "  He  brought  the  horse  and 
is  going  back.  Watch  the  rider." 

The  latter  had  been  standing  in  the  shade  look- 
ing after  the  man  who  had  gone,  when  suddenly, 
seeming  satisfied  that  he  was  not  watched,  he  vaulted 
into  the  saddle.  He  came  out  into  the  moonlight  in 
a  second  or  two  and  rode  rapidly  up  River  Road, 
past  the  Corners  and  northward  away  from  the  town. 
We  had  managed  to  get  near  the  road,  and  as  he 
dashed  into  the  open  we  saw  that  he  held  the  reins 
with  the  left  hand,  his  right  resting  on  the  horse's 
neck,  and  in  it,  as  we  both  recognized,  a  revolver. 

"  A  splendid  rider,"  was  my  remark. 

"  Yes,"  said  Moore.  "  Did  you  recognize  him  ? 
It  was  Mike,  I  thought.'' 

"  Yes,  Mike  it  was,  and  acting  in  a  very  suspicious 
manner.  He  has  done  this  before,  evidently — knew 
the  road  and  the  horse,  and  was  on  the  lookout  for 
trouble,  for  he  was  armed." 

We  decided  to  follow  the  first  man,  it  being  use- 
less to  attempt  to  overtake  the  rider.  Taking  the 
darkest  side  of  the  road,  we  walked  on  after  the 
figure  in  the  distance. 


The  Ruse  175 

Soon  my  companion's  spirits  began  to  rise  and  he 
laughed  at  our  adventure,  as  he  called  it. 

"  Stone,  I  cannot  help  thinking  that  you  and  I 
are  destined  to  become  great  sleuths.  We  have 
been  away  from  the  Mansion  only  a  short  half-hour, 
and  already  have  detected  a  man  on  horseback  who 
is  carrying  a  revolver — and  have  identified  him  as 
Mike," 

"  Yes,  we're  improving — but  why  did  you  lie 
down  behind  that  tree  ?  Afraid  ?  " 

"  No !  "  answered  Moore,  with  a  laugh.  "  I  have 
been  studying  caution.  I  want  to  see  Broadway 
again."  Then  he  continued :  "  Stone,  this  adven- 
ture is  becoming  more  and  more  complicated,  and 
occasionally  I  wonder  if  I  was  not  foolish  in  coming 
here.  It  is  so  different  from  practising  surgery — 
this  being  assaulted  by  invisible  foes — seeing  vic- 
tims of  murder  and  things  like  that,  to  say  nothing 
of  men  chasing  one  another  by  moonlight." 

He  was  half -serious,  and  I  acknowledged  that  the 
affair  was  rather  nerve  wearing.  Then  we  looked 
ahead,  and  suddenly  realized  that  the  figure  we  were 
following  had  vanished. 


176  Quintus  Oakes 


Moore  gasped  in  astonishment.  "  Hang  it  all ! 
we  certainly  are  a  pair  of  apes  to  let  that  fellow  get 
away.  Won't  Oakes  be  disgusted  ?  " 

"  Yes,  and  he  will  have  good  cause." 

The  lesson  was  a  needful  but  costly  one.  Thence- 
forth when  on  business  we  ceased  to  discuss  our  feel- 
ings and  endeavored  to  use  our  eyes  and  ears  more, 
and  our  tongues  less. 

We  received  a  cordial  welcome  from  the  people 
at  the  hotel  and  gossiped  around  the  corridor  for 
some  time.  The  crowd  outside  was  sullen,  but 
within  the  atmosphere  seemed  less  strained.  We 
learned  that  Chief  Hallen  had  made  several  arrests 
that  afternoon,  a  measure  which  had  had  a  sobering 
effect.  The  saloons  had  been  warned  not  to  abuse 
their  privileges.  Many  persons  spoke  of  the  work 
done  by  Hallen  as  excellent;  indeed,  we  were  both 
impressed  by  the  fact  that  the  sentiment  toward 
him,  of  the  better  citizens,  was  friendly.  Consider- 
able disgust  was  expressed,  however — privately,  of 
course — at  the  lack  of  evidence,  so  far,  bearing  upon 
the  murder  itself.  In  the  course  of  the  evening  we 
managed  to  see  Reilly  the  porter,  and  he  pointed  out 
several  men  to  us. 


The  Ruse  177 

"  These  fellows  are  new  in  town — they  must  be 
detectives.  If  they  discover  things,  well  and  good; 
but  if  they  don't,  the  people  here  won't  stand  it — 
they  will  resent  what  they  call  '  outside  '  work." 

"  Hallen  must  have  gone  in  for  business,"  said  I. 

Reilly  grew  confidential.  "  No,  it  ain't  Hallen, 
they  say.  There's  a  lot  of  talk  about  some  New 
York  man  coming  up  here  to  run  things." 

"Who?" 

"  Oh,  they  say  that  Quintus  Oakes — you've  heard 
of  him,  of  course — is  coming  soon,  and  these  are 
some  of  his  men," 

"  Indeed ! "  And  Moore  and  I  exchanged 
glances. 

"  But,  say,"  continued  the  porter,  "  that  is  con- 
fidential; only  we  fellows  round  here  know  it." 

We  parted  from  Reilly.  Moore  said :  "  If  they 
know  about  it  in  here,  of  course  half  of  the  town  has 
heard  already." 

"  Yes.  The  tale  was  doubtless  started  by  Hallen 
as  a  great  secret;  he  knew  it  would  spread." 

"  Evidently  Oakes  has  not  been  recognized  by 
the  people  as  yet." 


178  Quintus  Oakes 

"  No,"  I  rejoined,  "  but  the  fact  that  the  rumor 
is  out  shows  to  my  mind  that  Hallen  and  Oakes  have 
some  little  scheme  on  hand.  At  any  rate,  we  must 
know  nothing  of  Oakes;  remember  that  he  is  Clark 
to  all  but  a  select  few." 

We  decided  to  go  to  one  of  the  newspaper  offices, 
after  a  brief  call  on  Chief  Hallen,  who  gave  us  no 
news  of  value,  but  was  nevertheless  very  agreeable. 
He  advised  us  to  see  Dowd,  and  gave  us  a  note  to 
him.  We  found  the  newspaper  man  at  his  office, 
just  finishing  his  night's  work.  He  was  very  atten- 
tive in  furnishing  us  back  copies  of  his  rival's  paper, 
the  "  Daily  News."  He  said  he  kept  them  filed  as 
samples  of  "  daring  journalism."  "  I  have  only 
been  a  couple  of  years  in  this  business,  but  I  have 
the  pedigree  of  the  town  in  these  newspapers.  I 
got  them  from  people  who  had  saved  them — as 
country  people  will.  Skinner  would  not  sell  me  any 
— the  rascal.  Whenever  he  grows  fresh  and  criti- 
cises things  improperly,  I  investigate  what  he  has 
previously  said  on  the  subject  and  then  publish  a 
deadly  parallel  column.  He  has  a  rather  poor  mem- 
ory— and  I  worry  him  once  in  a  while,"  he  remarked 
with  a  laugh. 


The  Ruse  179 

We  found  the  paper  which  corresponded  in  date 
to  the  piece  we  had  taken  from  the  robe.  There  was 
a  full  account  of  the  murder  of  Smith,  which  we 
read,  but  nothing  that  seemed  to  us  of  any  value. 
On  that  occasion  no  clues  whatever  had  been  found. 
Only,  again  the  local  physicians  had  thought  the 
wound  was  made  by  a  large  ball. 

The  old  chief  of  that  time  had  been  succeeded  by 
Hallen,  who  ha  1  m:v  ;  been  able  to  gain  any  definite 
clue  to  the  murderer.  The  interest  had  then  died 
out,  and  the  mystery  became  a  thing  of  the  past. 

Dowd  discussed  the  similarity  of  the  recent  mur- 
der to  that  of  Smith,  and  hinted,  moreover,  that  he 
knew  the  identity  of  our  friend  Clark.  He  said 
Hallen  had  made  a  confidant  of  him,  as  he  might 
want  to  make  use  of  his  newspaper. 

"  By  the  way,  speaking  of  the  old  murder,  there 
is  something  that  has  never  been  published,  but 
which  some  of  the  old  codgers  about  here  have 
cherished  as  perhaps  relating  to  it." 

"  What  is  it?  "  asked  the  doctor. 

"  Well,  a  couple  of  old  men  who  have  since  died, 
both  milkmen,  used  to  say  that  once  or  twice  they 


180  Quintus  Oakes 

had  seen  a  woman  near  the  scene  of  the  murder  at 
that  hour  in  the  morning.  Also,  that  she  always 
ran  into  the  woods,  and  was  dressed  in  black." 

"  Who  were  those  old  men  ? " 

"  Well,  they  were  both  reliable  fellows.  Their 
tales  were  laughed  at,  so  they  refused  to  discuss  the 
matter  any  more.  They  both  claimed  to  have  seen 
her  at  a  distance,  however;  and  since  they  were  on 
different  wagons,  their  stories  seemed  to  corroborate 
each  other." 

We  expressed  our  great  interest  in  the  news,  and 
Dowd  advised  us  to  see  Eeilly  the  porter,  who  had 
heard  the  story  of  the  woman  from  the  men  them- 
selves. 

We  returned  to  the  hotel,  feeling  much  elated  at 
the  courtesy  of  Dowd  and  at  the  prospect  of  learn- 
ing something  not  generally  known,  and  bearing 
upon  the  murder. 

Soon  we  managed  to  find  Reilly.  He  came  to  our 
rooms  on  the  excuse  that  we  had  some  orders  to  give 
concerning  baggage  that  had  not  yet  arrived  from 
New  York. 

The  porter  was  decidedly  intelligent,  having  been 


The  Ruse  181 

reduced  to  his  present  position  through  adversity,  as 
we  already  knew.  It  took  only  a  little  questioning 
to  elicit  his  story,  which  he  told  about  as  follows : 

"  You  see,  gentlemen,  about  the  time  of  Smith's 
murder  the  milkmen  were  in  the  habit  of  watering 
their  horses  at  an  old  fountain  just  by  our  curb,  but 
since  done  away  with. 

"  Well,  about  two  weeks  before  Smith  was  mur- 
dered, one  of  the  milkmen,  Moses  Inkelman,  a 
driver  for  a  large  farm  north  of  here,  told  me  that 
he  had  that  morning  seen  a  very  large  woman  on 
the  crest  of  the  hill  as  he  was  driving  to  town.  She 
was  seemingly  anxious  to  avoid  notice  and  stepped 
into  the  woods  as  he  passed  by.  Moses  asked  me  if 
I  thought  she  was  anyone  from  Mona.  He  seemed 
so  curious  about  the  matter  that  several  who  had 
heard  his  story  laughed  at  him.  He  was  very  sensi- 
tive and  did  not  mention  the  episode  again  until 
after  the  murder — long  after,  I  remember — and 
then  only  to  me,  when  he  said :  '  If  these  people 
would  only  stop  making  fun  of  a  Jew,  and  believe 
me,  they  might  learn  something.'  He  disappeared 
a  little  while  afterward,  and  we  learned  from  his 


182  Quintus  Oakes 

successor  that  he  had  suddenly  died  of  heart  disease, 
on  the  farm. 

"  The  other  milkman  never  told  his  story  save  to 
a  few — one  night  around  the  stove  in  a  grocery  store. 
The  others  were  inclined  to  scoff  at  him;  but  I 
remembered  what  Moses  had  told  me,  and  saw  this 
fellow,  Sullivan,  alone. 

"  It  was  about  a  year  after  the  affair.  He  said 
that  he  had  seen  a  woman's  figure  lurking  around 
the  crest  of  the  hill  on  two  different  occasions  be- 
fore the  murder." 

"  Did  he  say  anything  about  her  appearance  ?  "  I 
asked. 

"  No.  He  said  he  never  came  very  near  to  her, 
but  he  saw  that  she  always  wore  black,  and  ran  very 
heavily.  He  thought  she  was  one  of  the  drunken 
creatures  that  sometimes  infest  the  water  front  on 
Saturday  nights. 

"  You  see,  gentlemen,  there  were  more  factories 
here  then,  and  the  town  was  tougher  than  it  is  now, 
especially  along  the  railroad  and  shore  where  the 
canal-boats  came  in.  The  new  piers  farther  down 
the  river  have  changed  all  that.  Sullivan  told  his 


The  Ruse  183 

story  to  the  police,  but  they  saw  nothing  in  it,  or 
pretended  they  didn't;  so  Sullivan  shut  up." 

"  What  became  of  him? "  Moore  asked. 

"  Well,  sir,  that's  the  curious  part  of  it,  to  my 
mind.  He  was  found  dead  only  a  short  time  ago  on 
River  Road,  'way  down  near  Lorona,  and  there  were 
marks  on  his  throat  and  blood  in  his  mouth.  The 
examiner  said  he  had  had  a  hemorrhage  and  had 
choked  to  death,  scratching  himself  in  his  dying 
struggles.  But " 

"  Well,  continue,"  commanded  Moore. 

"  Gentlemen,  I  believe  he  was  murdered." 

"  Why,  what  makes  you  think  so  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  I  saw  the  body  at  the  undertaker's  in  Lorona, 
gentlemen,  and  the  marks  on  the  neck  were  not  only 
scratches,  but  black  and  blue  patches.  The  exam- 
iner was  a  drunkard  himself  and  not  a  good  reasoner. 
I  always  had  the  idea  that  the  milkman  was  choked 
to  death  by  the  woman  because  he  had  seen  her. 

"  And  the  other  fellow,  Moses — I  think  he  was 
done  away  with  likewise,"  continued  Reilly.  "  I  tell 
you,  gentlemen,  there  is  more  to  all  this  than  is  per- 
haps wise  to  know,  unless  one  keeps  pretty  quiet." 


184  Quintus  Oakes 

We  tipped  Reilly  a  good  fee  and  then  turned  in 
for  the  night  in  a  most  uncomfortable  frame  of  mind. 
As  Moore  said :  "  things  are  coming  up  so  rapidly 
here  that  we  will  all  be  twisted  before  long." 

Our  visit  to  the  town  had  so  far  proved  more  valu- 
able than  we  had  hoped  for,  and  we  both  wished 
that  Oakes  could  have  been  with  us.  Several  times 
in  the  night  I  awoke,  and  each  time  heard  footsteps 
passing  to  and  fro,  and  subdued  voices  in  the  cor- 
ridor downstairs,  and  could  but  reflect  how  very  dif- 
ferent this  was  from  the  usual  quietude  of  such  a 
place. 

When  we  arose  in  the  morning,  Moore  remarked 
that  he  never  knew  of  such  a  noisy  hotel  in  a  small 
town. 

"  Guess  the  place  is  going  to  give  me  nervous 
prostration  pretty  soon,  if  things  keep  up  like  this," 
said  he. 

While  we  were  at  breakfast,  Chief  Hallen  walked 
in  and  sat  down  beside  us  in  a  rather  pompous  man- 
ner, I  thought.  He  seemed  desirous  of  calling  at- 
tention to  himself.  "  Well,  gentlemen,"  he  said  in 
a  quiet  enough  way,  "  don't  be  taken  aback  at  any- 


The  Ruse  185 

thing  you  may  witness  to-day.  You  may  have  a 
surprise.  I  want  you  to  meet  me  in  the  hotel  cor- 
ridor soon  and  see  who  comes  on  the  nine  o'clock 
train." 

He  bade  us  adieu,  and  walked  out  in  an  unnatur- 
ally aggressive  manner. 

"  He's  showing  off  like  a  schoolboy,"  said  I. 

"  Or  else  acting,"  corrected  Moore. 

We  sat  down  in  the  corridor  by  and  by.  Hallen 
was  talking  with  the  clerk  at  the  desk.  The  hang- 
ers-on were  numerous  and  wore  an  air  of  expect- 
ancy; they  were  waiting  for  some  one. 

The  rickety  old  carriage  from  the  station  arrived 
at  this  moment,  and  the  man  on  the  box  opened  the 
door  with  more  than  usual  courtesy.  Out  stepped  a 
medium-sized  man  of  good  figure  and  a  most  remark- 
able face.  It  was  bronzed  like  that  of  a  seafaring 
man;  the  eyes  were  black  as  jet  and  piercing;  the 
nose  hooked  and  rather  long.  He  wore  a  thick, 
short  moustache,  which  matched  his  hair  and  eyes 
in  blackness;  otherwise,  his  face  was  smooth-shaven, 
and  his  attire  was  in  the  perfection  of  good  taste  for 


186  Quintus  Oakes 


a  business  man.  When  he  spoke,  one  noticed  par- 
ticularly his  strong  white,  even  teeth. 

"  He  looks  like  a  pirate  from  the  Spanish  Main, 
dressed  up,"  said  Moore. 

"  A  remarkably  attractive  fellow,  anyway." 

"  Yes,"  I  said ;  "  he  has  the  air  of  a  celebrated 
man  of  some  kind." 

As  he  walked  to  the  desk,  the  bystanders  spoke  in 
subdued  tones,  watching  him  the  while.  I  heard 
one  lounger  say :  "  Sure,  that  is  the  fellow.  I've 
seen  him  before.  Ain't  he  a  wonder  in  looks  ?  " 

Chief  Hallen  advanced  and  spoke  a  few  words  to 
the  stranger,  and  then  shook  hands  with  him.  He 
registered,  and  the  clerk  thumped  the  bell  for  Reilly 
with  an  air  of  tremendous  importance. 

As  though  by  accident,  Chief  Hallen  espied  us 
and,  taking  the  stranger  by  the  arm,  walked  over  to 
us.  . 

We  arose  and  bowed  as  the  Chief  repeated  our 
names,  saying,  so  that  those  near  could  hear: 
"  Gentlemen,  you  are  from  the  city.  Let  me  make 
you  acquainted  with  one  of  your  fellow  citizens — 
Mr.  Quintus  Oakes,  of  New  York." 


The  Ruse  187 

Moore  calmly  shook  hands  and  mumbled  some- 
thing, and  then,  in  a  side  whisper  to  me,  said :  "  It's 
up  to  you,  Stone;  say  something." 

Although  I  was  nearly  as  surprised  as  he,  I  man- 
aged to  make  a  few  audible  remarks  about  how  glad 
the  town  would  be  to  know  that  Quintus  Oakes  was 
here.  I  saw  a  merry  twinkle  in  Hallen's  eyes,  but 
the  stranger  made  a  suitable  reply,  and  left  us  with 
that  peculiar  business-like  air  of  his. 

I  turned  to  Moore  and  half -gasped :  "  What  does 
this  mean,  old  man  ?  " 

"  A  decoy,"  said  he.  "  Just  keep  your  nerve. 
II alien  has  been  giving  us  practice  in  acting." 

The  by-standers  and  the  groups  in  the  street  were 
discussing  the  stranger  with  peculiar,  suppressed  ex- 
citement. Many  of  the  smart  ones  claimed  to  have 
seen  him  before  and  to  know  all  about  him;  already, 
"  Quintus  Oakes  "  rang  familiarly  from  their  lips. 

We  presently  returned  to  the  Mansion  and  related 
to  our  leader  the  facts  we  had  learned  from  Eeilly 
regarding  "  the  woman's  "  appearances  before  the 
murder,  the  sudden  ending  of  both  the  milkmen  who 


188  Quintus  Oakes 

had  seen  her,  and  Reilly's  own  suspicions  in  the 
matter.  Oakes  was  thoughtful  for  quite  a  while. 

"  You  have  done  more  than  I  thought  you  could 
in  so  brief  a  time/'  said  he  at  last.  "  Have  you 
any  theories  regarding  the  identity  of  the  woman  ?  " 

We  had  none  to  offer,  and  he  began  to  smile  ever 
so  slightly.  "  Well,  it  seems  to  me  your  woman  is 
a  mistake — there  was  no  woman.  The  assassin  was 
a  man  in  a  black  robe.  He  ran  heavily,  of  course. 
You  have  drawn  the  murderer  of  Smith  nearer  to 
that  of  Mark.  As  regards  the  sudden  deaths  of  the 
milkmen,  probably  both  were  killed;  the  examina- 
tions after  death,  conducted  as  these  were,  amount 
to  nothing.  The  murderer  of  Smith,  the  two  milk- 
men and  of  Mark  is  probably  one  and  the  same. 
Stone,  you  nearly  fell  a  victim  at  the  bridge  the 
other  night,  too." 

I  did  not  reply,  but  a  cold  perspiration  broke  out 
over  me.  The  chain  of  events  seemed  clearer  now 
in  the  light  of  Oakes's  reasoning.  Then  he  turned 
to  Moore. 

"  Doctor,  loan  me  your  cigar-cutter,  will  you  ? " 

The  physician  reached  for  it,  but  it  was  gone. 


The  Ruse  189 

"  I  think  this  must  be  it,"  said  Oakes,  holding  out 
the  missing  article.  "  Next  time  you  hide  on  your 
stomach  behind  a  tree,  do  it  properly." 

Moore  was  dumfounded. 

"  What !  "  I  cried,  "  you  know  that  too  ?  We  did 
not  tell  you." 

"  No,  you  did  not.  You  began  your  narration  at 
the  wrong  end — or  perhaps  you  forgot"  and  his  eyes 
twinkled. 

"  But  how  did  you  learn  of  it  ? "  demanded 
Moore,  recovering.  And  Quintus  smiled  outright. 

"  My  man  was  behind  another  tree  only  ten  feet 
away  from  you  the  whole  time.  When  you  left,  he 
picked  up  this  as  a  memento  of  your  brilliant  detec- 
tive work." 

Moore  and  I  smarted  a  little  under  the  sarcasm, 
and  I  asked  what  the  man  was  doing  there. 

"  Oh,  he  was  watching  Mike  and,  incidentally, 
keeping  you  two  from  mischief.  You  need  a  guard- 
ian. You  never  even  suspected  his  presence,  and 
— suppose  he  had  been  the  assassin !  " 

"  Well,"  I  said,  "  I  suppose  that  you  know  all 
about  your  namesake  in  town,  and  don't  need  any 
of  our  information." 


190  Quintus  Oakes 

He  heard  the  chagrin  in  my  voice  and  smiled  as 
he  replied: 

"  Don't  mind  those  little  things ;  they  happen  to 
all  of  us.  I  am  glad  '  Quintus  Oakes '  has  arrived. 
Chief  Hallen  and  I  concluded  that  the  sudden  arrival 
of  such  a  man  as  our  decoy  would  have  a  salutary 
effect  on  the  citizens.  An  appearance  of  action  on 
Hallen's  part  would  tend  to  quiet  their  restlessness; 
and,  now  that  public  attention  is  focused  upon  him, 
Mr.  Clark  and  his  friends  can  work  more  freely." 

During  the  discussion  that  followed,  he  told  us 
that  Mike's  errand  on  horseback  was  as  yet  unknown, 
but  that  the  man  whom  we  followed  and  lost  on  the 
way  was  from  a  stable  in  Lorona. 

"  You  see,"  continued  he,  "  Mike  has  been  doing 
this  before.  The  horse  is  brought  from  Lorona  in 
a  roundabout  way.  Doubtless,  on  his  return,  he 
leaves  it  at  some  spot  where  it  is  met  and  returned 
to  the  stable." 

"  Mike  is  a  mystery.  What  is  he  up  to  ? "  said 
Moore.  "  Can  he  be  the  murderer  ?  " 

"  Wait  and  see,"  replied  Oakes  enigmatically,  as 
he  ended  the  conversation. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

The  Negro's  Story 

Saturday  came  and  went  without  event.  So  far, 
at  least,  Hallen's  arrangements  for  the  preservation 
of  order  had  been  effective.  Or  was  it  that  the  eyes 
and  hopes  of  the  people  were  centred  upon  the  new 
arrival  in  town,  the  great  detective — as  they  were 
led  to  believe — who  had  grown  famous  through  his 
skill  in  ferreting  out  just  such  mysteries.  In  any 
case,  the  Chief's  forebodings  of  a  lawless  outbreak 
were  unfulfilled. 

The  real  Oakes  spent  most  of  his  time  in  the 
Mansion  while  we  remained  in  town;  but  our  little 
party  came  and  went  as  it  pleased.  Our  movements 
had  ceased  to  attract  that  attention  which  Oakes 
found  so  undesirable.  As  he  said,  in  the  well-known 
phrase  of  the  sleight-of-hand  operators :  "  the  more 
you  look,  the  less  you  see."  The  eyes  of  Mona  were 
focused  on  the  false  Oakes — the  wrong  hand;  we 


192  Quintus  Oakes 


ourselves — the  hand  doing  the  trick — were  over- 
looked. And  the  more  absorbed  they  became  in  the 
movements  of  the  decoy,  the  more  oblivious  were 
they  of  the  fact  that  keen  eyes  were  studying  them 
deeply.  The  criminal,  unless  very  educated  and 
clever,  would  be  fooled  with  the  multitude  and 
caught  off  his  guard. 

A  raither  curious  fact  was  that,  while  Dowd's 
newspaper  published  an  article  in  its  personal 
column  about  the  great  detective's  arrival  and  all 
that  he  was  expected  to  accomplish,  Skinner's  journal 
remained  absolutely  silent.  Dowd  said  he  could  not 
understand  it,  unless  the  ruse  had  failed  to  deceive 
Skinner,  in  which  case  we  might  hear  from  him  soon. 
We  knew  that  our  friend  Quintus  Oakes  held  the 
same  idea.  As  he  said,  if  the  cheat  were  discovered 
it  would  lead  to  trouble,  which,  must  be  met  as  it 
arose. 

Moore  and  I  became  daily  more  imbued  with  the 
spirit  of  the  adventure;  besides  which,  we  were 
keenly  alive  to  Oakes's  feelings  and  his  desire  to 
succeed.  The  newspapers  far  and  near  were  follow- 
ing the  case  carefully,  and  we  knew  that  his  reputa- 


The  Negro's  Story  193 

tion  and  financial  success  depended  largely  on  the 
outcome  of  this  case. 

A  few  evenings  later  Moore  and  I  were  standing 
in  the  square,  discussing  the  very  apparent  change 
in  the  temper  of  the  crowd  since  their  attention  had 
been  directed  by  the  arrival  of  the  man  they  be- 
lieved to  be  Quintus  Oakes. 

"  Yes,"  said  Moore,  in  answer  to  a  remark  of 
mine,  "  it  is  a  clever  scheme  and  makes  the  people 
think  that  Hallen  is  doing  something;  but  how  will 
they  take  it  if  they  discover  the  trick  ?  " 

"  Well,  perhaps  by  that  time  the  real  Oakes,  our 
friend,  will  be  in  position  to  reveal  his  identity — 
that  would  calm  any  bad  feeling — they  would  real- 
ize that  work  had  been  done  quietly  all  the  while." 

Moore  shook  his  head  doubtfully.  "  I  don't  like 
Skinner's  attitude,"  he  said,  "  he  knows  something." 

Eeilly  approached  us  at  this  moment  to  say  that 
Clark  wanted  us  at  the  Mansion  immediately,  and 
that  a  conveyance  was  waiting  for  us  at  the  hotel. 
We  went  at  once  and  found  it,  a  four-seated  affair, 
with  Hallen  and  Dowd  on  the  back  seat.  We  two 

sat  in  front  with  the  driver — one  of  Oakes's  men; 
13 


194  Quintus  Oakes 


and  after  we  had  left  the  town  I  turned  to  the  Chief 
and  asked  him  if  he  knew  what  Oakes  wanted  of  us. 

"  Yes,"  said  he ;  "  the  negro  is  here." 

Oakes  was  awaiting  us  upstairs,  with  Martin  and 
Elliott.  The  first  thing  we  learned  was  that  Oakes 
had  recognized  the  negro  "  Joe  "  as  a  former  boot- 
black on  Broadway.  Joe's  identification  of  him 
during  the  court  scene  had  placed  the  negro  in  a 
state  of  less  fear  than  would  otherwise  have  been  the 
case. 

"  He  came  readily  enough,"  said  Martin;  "  he  was 
threatened  with  arrest  if  he  did  not;  but  he  is  acting 
peculiarly.  Seems  more  worried  than  an  innocent 
man  should  be." 

"  He  naturally  dreads  the  ordeal ;  innocent  men 
frequently  appear  guilty  to  the  onlooker.  The 
really  guilty  ones  are  prepared  and  go  through  more 
coolly,"  said  Oakes. 

"  Yes,  sir,  I  know  that ;  but  this  one  is  different. 
I  should  hardly  say  he  is  guilty;  still,  his  actions  are 
peculiar — I  cannot  explain  how." 

"  Think  a  little,  Martin,"  said  Oakes.  It  was  the 
tone  of  the  superior,  firm  but  kindly. 


The  Negro's  Story  195 

Martin  thought  a  few  seconds,  then  he  said: 
"  Well,  sir,  he  seems  anxious  to  describe  what  he 
saw,  and  seems  to  think  that  you  are  his  friend  and 
will  believe  him ;  but  he  appears  to  be  actually  fear- 
ful of  punishment." 

"  Rather  ambiguous,"  said  Oakes.  "  Perhaps  he 
is  hiding  some  vital  point,  Martin.  Is  he  not?  " 

"  Yes,  sir;  and  that  point  is  against  himself." 

"  Of  course  it  is,  or  he  would  not  hide  it ;  against 
himself,  or  one  dear  to  him." 

Oakes's  correction  was  without  malice,  polite  and 
patient.  He  was  the  clear  reasoner,  the  leader,  in- 
structing a  trusty  subordinate — the  kindly  Chief  and 
his  young,  but  able  lieutenant. 

We  ranged  ourselves  round  the  centre-table — we 
four  who  had  come  in  the  carriage,  besides  Elliott 
and  Martin,  who  had  brought  Joe  from  New  York. 
Oakes  stood  near  a  chair,  away  from  the  table  and 
the  group.  After  a  moment  the  negro  entered, 
ushered  to  the  door  by  one  of  the  men.  We  must 
have  looked  a  formidable  conclave  to  the  poor  fellow, 
for  he  halted  just  inside  the  door  at  sight  of  us  all. 
He  was  a  negro  of  that  type  seen  in  the  North — 


196  Quintus  Oakes 

strong,  lithe,  with  a  clear-cut  face  whose  features 
showed  the  admixture  of  white  blood.  He  advanced 
to  the  chair  besides  Oakes,  and  sat  down  at  a  sign 
from  the  latter. 

He  was  nervous,  but  a  pitiful  effort  at  bravery 
showed  in  his  carriage  and  manner.  Bravery  was 
necessary.  A  lone  negro  boy  facing  such  a  gather- 
ing, and — worst  of  all  to  him — that  mysterious,  awe- 
inspiring  person,  Quintus  Oakes ! 

With  consummate  tact  Quintus  won  the  boy's  con- 
fidence. Elliott  spoke  to  him,  kindly  and  reassur- 
ingly; and  Hallen  walked  over  and  shook  his  hand 
with  a  protecting  air.  Joe  brightened  visibly.  It 
was  plain  that  the  men  who  hunted  crime  were  going 
to  try  kindness  and  sympathy  first.  It  has  always 
seemed  to  me  a  pity  that  such  tactics  are  not  more 
in  vogue,  especially  toward  witnesses.  The  master 
detective  can  throw  a  sympathy  into  his  every  act 
which  will  win  secrets  actually  barred  from  other 
methods  of  attack. 

Reassured,  Joe  presently  began  his  story.  In  a 
clear,  remarkably  able  way  (for  he  had  been  to 
school),  and  with  the  peculiar,  dramatic  power  pos- 


The  Negro's  Story  197 

sessed  by  some  negroes,  he  brought  vividly  before 
us  the  scenes  he  had  witnessed.  As  he  warmed  to 
his  subject,  Oakes  and  Hallen  watched  him  carefully, 
but  without  emotion,  occasionally  questioning  him 
adroitly  to  develop  points  which  seemed  to  them 
valuable.  Dowd  took  notes,  at  Oakes's  suggestion, 
for  future  use. 

When  Joe's  mother  died  in  Troy,  he  went  up  to 
attend  the  funeral.  On  his  return  he  stayed  a  few 
days  in  Lorona — a  little  place  already  mentioned. 
It  was  without  railway  connections  and  lay  to  the 
east  of  Mona,  along  the  Highway.  He  had  passed 
through  the  latter  place  afoot,  late  at  night,  and  had 
walked  the  ten  miles  to  Lorona.  His  sister  lived 
there  in  service,  also  his  sweetheart  Jennie.  Natur- 
ally, he  did  not  pass  it  by. 

He  had  left  very  early  one  morning  to  go  back 
to  New  York  and  had  cut  across  country  from  the 
Highway  on  the  east  of  Mona,  coming  around  by 
the  hill  and  the  pond,  in  front  of  the  Mansion,  to 
Eiver  Road.  He  had  arrived  at  the  Corners  in 
time  to  see  a  milkman  pick  up  a  gentleman  on  the 
road  and  drive  with  him  into  the  town.  Joe  wanted 


198  Quint  us  Oakes 

to  get  back  to  New  York  early  and  begin  work,  for 
he  had  been  absent  a  week.  He  was  to  catch  the 
seven  o'clock  train,  so  he  had  abundance  of  time,  as 
he  could  tell  by  the  sun. 

He  started  down  the  hill  slowly,  but  took  the 
woods  along  the  north  side  of  the  Highway;  he  was 
fond  of  the  woods  and  he  knew  the  way — he  had 

travelled  it  on  previous  visits.    Just  after  he  entered 

i 

among  the  trees  he  heard  a  shot,  followed  by  a  groan 
— on  the  road,  he  thought — a  little  way  above  him. 
He  trembled  and  stood  still,  then  his  courage  mani- 
fested itself,  and  he  crept  cautiously  to  the  road- 
side, which  was  hidden  below  by  a  few  feet  of  em- 
bankment. What  he  saw  paralyzed  him!  A  man 
was  lying  in  the  road,  and  a  little  lower  down  on  this 
side,  not  a  hundred  feet  from  himself,  stood  another 
in  full  view,  with  a  smoking  revolver  in  his  hand.  In- 
stantly the  negro  understood.  A  murder — and  Tie 
was  a  witness!  He  did  nothing — waited.  To  have 
shouted  would  have  been  to  invite  death.  But  he 
kept  his  eyes  open. 

"  Fse  the  only  witness.  I  must  look  at  him  good," 
he  thought.  The  man's  back  was  partly  turned,  but 


The  Negro's  Story  199 

Joe  took  in  all  that  he  could  at  that  distance,  and 
saw  him  retreat  after  a  moment  into  the  woods. 
Then  he  grew  frightened.  The  assassin  was  not  far 
from  him,  but,  fortunately,  going  deeper  into  the 
woods,  and  down  toward  the  stony  glade  below. 

Did  the  negro  run?  No.  He  gathered  a  couple 
of  good-sized  stones  and  followed.  He  thought 
the  man  on  the  road  was  dead;  and  he  saw  the 
other  one  going  down  into  the  gully  to  cross  the 
small  stream  al  the  bottom.  "  Good !  "  he  thought ; 
"  I'll  follow  him.  If  he  sees  me  now,  and  comes 
after  me,  I  can  run  a  long  way  before  he  can  climb 
that  hill." 

The  assassin  was  picking  his  way — carefully — 
until  he  came  to  the  rocky  bottom.  He  wanted  to 
cross  the  stream  where  a  large  flat  rock  gave  an  in- 
vitation for  stepping.  He  had  followed  the  stony 
formation  carefully,  avoiding  the  earth;  he  did  not 
wish  to  leave  marks  to  be  traced. 

Now,  at  this  moment  the  negro  became  conscious 
of  a  new  danger;  he  was  near  the  scene  of  the  crime 
alone,  and  if  found,  he  would  suspected  of  having 
done  it.  So  he  looked  about  for  a  moment,  and  then 


200  Quintus  Oakes 

decided  to  run  back  to  Lorona  and  his  people.  He 
was  growing  scared.  Who  could  blame  him?  He 
saw  the  murderer  stoop  down  right  below  him,  deep 
in  the  gully;  and  the  negro,  obeying  a  sudden  im- 
pulse, swung  one  arm  and  hurled  a  stone  straight  at 
him.  It  struck  the  fugitive  on  the  shoulder,  turn- 
ing him  half  around;  and  he  broke  into  a  run,  full 
tilt,  for  the  brook  and  the  stepping-stone.  Joe  had 
not  seen  the  murderer's  face,  but  he  told  us  that  the 
man's  chest  was  protected  only  by  an  undershirt.  It 
was  a  chilly  morning,  and  the  fact  had  impressed 
him  afterward  as  curious.  He  watched,  and  saw  the 
assassin  take  the  brook  like  a  frightened  stag,  land- 
ing first  on  the  rock  in  the  centre,  then  on  the  other 
side.  As  he  stepped  on  the  rock  in  the  middle  of 
the  stream,  the  boy  saw  something  fall  from  his 
waist — something  red.  It  fell  into  the  water. 

"  I'd  like  to  know  what  that  is,"  he  thought;  "  but 
I'd  better  skip"  Then  horror  took  possession  of 
him;  he  crossed  the  road  quickly  and  dashed  into 
the  Mark  property.  Then  he  ran  to  Kiver  Eoad 
and  the  bridge,  up  the  incline  on  the  other  side  of 
the  pond,  and  into  the  fields  beyond.  On  he  went 


The  Negro's  Story  201 

until  Mona  was  passed;  then  he  sat  down  in  a  little 
patch  of  wood  and  thought. 

He  was  sure  nobody  had  seen  him  except  a  farmer 
in  the  distance,  too  far  away  to  know  he  was  a 
negro.  He  was  innocent,  and  perhaps  he  had  better 
wait  and  see  the  police.  Had  he  done  so  then  and 
there,  all  would  have  been  solved  sooner  than  it  was ; 
but,  poor  boy,  he  had  no  one  to  advise  him  and  he 
was  alone  with  a  terrible  secret.  He  had  done  well; 
he  could  identify  the  murderer  perhaps;  his  was  a 
great  responsibility. 

He  stayed  around,  and  from  afar  witnessed  the 
crowds  of  the  morning.  In  the  afternoon  he  sneaked 
into  town,  hungry  and  worn  and  terribly  cold. 
When  he  saw  the  people  gathering  in  the  court- 
room, curiosity  conquered.  He  listened  with  all  his 
soul,  and  made  up  his  mind  to  go  in  and  tell  what 
he  knew. 

He  saw  Oakes  come  forward  to  give  his  testimony, 
and  his  heart  beat  fast  and  furious.  He  felt  ill — 
the  cold  sweat  poured  from  him  as  he  heard ;  but  he 
remained,  entranced.  He  was  going  to  tell  all,  for 
surely  that  tall  fellow — Clark,  they  were  calling 


202  Quintus  Oakes 

him, — was  the  great  detective  Oakes ;  he  had  shined 
his  shoes  many  times  at  the  stand  on  Broadway  be- 
fore he  went  up-town.  How  peculiar  that  they 
didn't  seem  to  know  him!  Then  intelligence  came, 
and  he  said  to  himself :  "  These  people  don't  know 
him  because  he  does  not  want  them  to."  Joe  did 
not  understand  all  that  had  been  said,  but  he  knew 
things  were  uncanny  and  that  this  man  Oakes  was 
playing  a  game. 

Suddenly  had  come  the  statement  of  Oakes  about 
the  arms,  and  the  tension  became  too  great.  He 
cried  out  and  ran,  like  the  fleet-footed  boy  that  he 
was,  for  Lorona. 

There  he  told  nothing,  except  that  he  had  missed 
the  train.  His  friends  gave  him  food — the  murder 
story  was  yet  vague  in  the  little  village — and  then 
he  dashed  on  for  New  York.  He  shook  the  dust 
from  his  clothes  and,  catching  a  train  miles  down  the 
line,  arrived  safely  in  town.  He  was  far  away  from 
Mona  at  last,  but  he  must  see  Mr.  Elliott,  his  good 
friend,  and  tell  him  all  that  he  could. 

As  the  negro  finished  his  story  he  looked  around, 
and  partially  recovered  from  the  state  of  ecstasy 


The  Negro's  Story  203 

into  which  the  recitation  had  thrown  him.  His  eyes 
were  rolling  and  shifting,  his  dark  skin  had  that 
peculiar  ashen  color  that  comes  to  the  negro  under 
stress  of  great  excitement. 

Dr.  Moore  arose  and  walked  to  the  boy,  and,  plac- 
ing his  hands  on  his  wrist,  said  reassuringly :  "  Good 
boy,  Joe !  you  are  a  brave  fellow." 

Oakes  handed  him  a  drink  of  brandy — he  needed 
it — and  then  we  all  joined  in  praising  him.  He 
soon  recovered  himself,  and  then  Oakes  took  up  his 
position  beside  him  again. 

"  Now,  Joe,  what  did  the  murderer  drop  when  he 
jumped  over  the  stream  from  the  rock  ? " 

"  I  dunno,  Master  Oakes — but  it  was  a  banana,  I 
think." 

"  What!  "  said  Hallen;  "  a  banana?  " 

The  negro  looked  worried. 

"  Yes,  it  did  look  like  one  of  dose  red,  white, 
spotted  cloths  wat  de  niggers  down  South  wear  on 
their  heads." 

We  all  laughed. 

"  Oh,  a  bandana  handkerchief,  Joe." 

And  Joe  laughed  also,  in  relief. 


204  Quintus  Oakes 

"And  now,"  continued  Oakes,  "what  did  it  do? 
Did  it  float  away?" 

The  boy  thought  a  moment,  then  his  quick  brain 
came  to  his  aid. 

"  No,  no,  Master  Oakes ;  it  splashed,  sure  enough 
it  did.  It  went  down — so  help  me  Gawd !  " 

"  Good !  "  said  Oakes.  "  It  contained  something 
heavy,  then.  Now,  Joe,"  he  continued,  slowly  and 
clearly,  "  tell  me,  when  you  heard  the  evidence  that 
the  murderer  was  the  man  with  a  mark  on  his  arm, 
why  did  you  say,  '  Oh,  Gawd ! '  and  run  away  ? " 

We  all  felt  uneasy — the  question  was  so  unex- 
pected, to  some  of  us  at  least. 

The  negro  hesitated,  stammered,  and  lurched  for- 
ward in  his  chair.  Great  beads  of  perspiration 
stood  out  on  his  brow  and  on  the  back  of  his  hands. 
Oakes  was  behind  him,  and  in  a  caressing  way  slid 
his  left  arm  across  the  boy's  chest.  We  divined  in- 
stantly that  that  arm  was  ready  to  shoot  up  around 
the  boy's  neck  for  a  strangle  hold. 

Joe  tried  to  speak,  but  could  not.  I  saw  Hallen 
prepare  for  a  spring,  and  Martin  edge  toward  the 
door.  Dr.  Moore's  breathing  came  deep  and  fast, 


The  Negro's  Story  205 

and  I  began  to  feel  like  shouting  aloud.  What  did 
it  mean? 

"  Come !     Speak,  boy,  speak !  "  said  Oakes. 

No  answer. 

Then  Oakes  stooped  forward  and  said  loudly 
enough  for  us  all  to  hear,  but  right  in  the  negro's 
ear :  "  Boy,  you  ran  because  you  have  a  scar  on  your 
left  arm!" 

We  were  on  our  feet  in  an  instant. 

"  The  murderer,"  we  cried. 

The  negro  made  a  frantic  effort  to  rise,  but  the 
arm  closed  on  his  neck  and  Oakes's  right  hand  came 
down  on  his  right  wrist. 

Joe's  left  hand  went  to  the  arm  at  his  neck,  but  he 
was  powerless. 

In  a  voice  as  firm  as  a  rock,  clear  and  emotionless, 
Oakes  cried  out :  "  Don't  move,  boy !  Don't  try  to 
run." 

And  then  he  said  to  us :  "  This  boy  is  not  the  mur- 
derer ;  he  is  only  a  scared,  unfortunate  negro,  and  I 
will  prove  it." 

The  meaning  of  the  words  came  to  the  boy  grad- 


206  Quintus  Oakes 


ually,  and  he  became  limp  in  the  chair.  Oakes  re- 
laxed his  hold. 

"  Now,  boy,  if  you  try  to  run,  we  will  bore  you," 
and  Chief  Hallen  drew  his  revolver  and  put  it  be- 
fore him  on  the  table. 

"  Now,  Joe,  show  us  your  arm !  "  commanded 
Oakes. 

The  negro  arose  staggering,  and  took  off  his  outer 
garment  and  his  shirt.  There,  on  his  left  arm,  was 
a  large  irregular  birthmark,  blue  and  vicious-looking. 

Oakes  looked  at  it.  "  Gentlemen,  this  boy  is  a 
victim  of  circumstances.  This  is  no  cross,  but  the 
coincidence  of  a  mark  on  the  left  arm  has  scared 
him  nearly  to  death.  That,  in  my  opinion,  is  why 
he  was  afraid,  and  why  he  acted  so  peculiarly." 

This  was  said  deliberately,  and  with  emphasis. 

The  negro  fell  on  his  knees.  "  Oh,  Gawd !  Oh, 
Mr.  Oakes !  Dat  is  it.  Dat  is  it.  I  never  done  any 
murder.  No !  no !  no !  "  and  he  burst  into  racking 
sobs.  The  strain  was  terrible.  Dowd  opened  a 
window. 

Hallen  spoke.  "  How  are  you  to  prove  his  inno- 
cence, Mr.  Oakes,  as  you  said  ?  " 


The  Negro's  Story  207 

There  was  a  slight  element  of  doubt  in  the  ques- 
tion. 

"  Get  up,  boy,"  said  Oakes;  "  get  up."  And  turn- 
ing to  us,  the  cool  man  looked  long  at  us  all,  then 
said :  "  The  evidence  showed  conclusively  that  the 
weapon  used  was  a  heavy  one,  of  45-calibre  probably 
— a  revolver  in  all  likelihood,  and  fired  from  a  dis- 
tance of  about  one  hundred  and  fifty  feet.  That 
means  a  good  shot.  Now,  this  boy  is  right-handed, 
as  you  have  noticed,  but  he  could  not  use  his  right 
hand  to  shoot  with,  for  the  first  two  fingers  have 
been  amputated  near  the  ends.  Plenty  of  loss  to 
preclude  good  pistol  shooting ! 

"  To  have  used  such  a.  weapon  with  the  left  hand, 
and  with  such  accuracy,  is  out  of  the  question  save 
for  a  fancy  shot.  If  this  boy  could  shoot  like  that, 
he  would  not  be  bootblacking  for  a  living. 

"  Again,  he  has  not  noticeably  strong  arms,  nor  a 
wrist  powerful  enough  to  handle  a  heavy  weapon 
properly.  The  boy  is  innocent — in  my  opinion." 

"  Oakes,  you  are  a  demon,"  said  Hallen. 

"  Oh,  no,  I  hope  not ;  only  I  hate  to  see  mistakes 
made  too  often.  Poor  devil !  " 


208  Quintus  Oakes 

And  Oakes  patted  the  boy  on  the  back. 

With  a  pathetic,  dog-like  expression,  sobbing  with 
joy,  the  befriended  negro  seized  the  man's  right  hand 
and,  kneeling,  showered  kisses  upon  it. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

Checkmated 

The  negro  was  led  away.  He  was  in  better  spirits 
now,  and  smiling  as  only  a  negro  can.  That  extra- 
ordinary genius — the  mystic  Oakes — had,  by  a  pro- 
cess of  reasoning  that  Joe  himself  was  able  to  follow, 
not  only  cleared  him  of  suspicion,  but  made  a  hero 
of  him.  The  innate  vanity  of  the  race  was  reacting 
on  the  boy,  and  coming  to  the  rescue  of  his  nervous 
system,  recently  so  severely  strained. 

When  he  had  gone,  Oakes  turned  to  us  and,  inter- 
rupting our  exclamations,  remarked: 

"  Now  that  we  are  all  here  together,  it  would  be 
wise  perhaps  briefly  to  review  what  clues  we  have 
obtained  and  their  probable  significance." 

We  all  assented  to  this  suggestion,  and  by  tacit 
consent  Quintus  Oakes  began: 

"  First,  we  have  found  that  the  cartridge  picked 

up  in  the  cellar,  and  evidently  dropped  by  the  man 
14 


210  Quintus  Oakes 


in  the  robe,  is  of  the  same  pattern  as  the  old  ones  in 
the  pouch  upstairs. 

"  They  all  belong  to  the  old  revolver  which  was 
taken  away  from  its  place — and  for  which  another 
was  substituted  since  my  first  visit  here.  With  re- 
gard to  its  calibre  (the  important  point),  that  old 
revolver  meets  the  requirements  of  our  deductions 
about  the  weapon  used  to  murder  Mr.  Mark.  There- 
fore we  have  a  chain  of  evidence  connecting  my 
assailant  in  the  cellar — the  man  in  the  robe — with 
the  assassin. 

"  We  know  also  that  the  revolver  was  fired  not  far 
from  the  hundred-and-fifty-foot  distance;  the  man 
was  an  excellent  shot,  for  you  must  consider  the  old 
style  of  weapon. 

"  He  must  have  been  large,  or  at  least  strong  in 
the  wrist,  for  a  good  shot  with  such  a  weapon  cannot 
be  made  by  a  weak  person." 

I  interrupted :  "  The  murder  of  Smith  was  con- 
sidered to  be  due  to  a  pistol  ball  of  large  calibre. 
Could  the  same  weapon  have  been  used  ? " 

"  It  could,"  said  Oakes.  "  That  one  has  been  in 
the  family  for  years.  The  style  of  the  cartridges  is 


Checkmated  211 


somewhat  similar  to  our  modern  ones,  but  they  are 
very  old,  as  we  know  by  their  appearance. 

"  Further,"  he  continued,  "  in  my  opinion  the 
*  woman  story '  connected  with  the  Smith  murder  is 
based  on  a  man  in  a  black  robe.  It  may  have  been 
the  same  man  who  is  at  the  bottom  of  these  later 
mysteries — though  we  are  to  remember  that  when 
Mr.  Mark  was  killed  Joe  saw  no  robe. 

"  In  the  annals  of  crime  we  find  very  few  women 
doing  murder  in  that  way;  it  is  a  man's  method. 

"  We  must  look  then  for  a  strong-wristed  man — a 
man  who  has  also  strong  arms,  and  a  cross  on  the  left 
one;  finally,  a  man  with  a  knowledge  of  revolvers, 
and  who  has  in  his  possession — or  has  had — a  large, 
old-fashioned  weapon  and  cartridges,  and  also  a  robe. 

"  And  one  thing  more  strikes  me,"  added  Oakes 
in  a  slow,  deliberate  voice,  "  he  is  a  man  with  a 
mania — an  insane  man — always,  or  at  intervals." 

"  Yes,"  said  the  doctor.  "  I  had  concluded  so 
too,  Oakes.  The  wearing  of  a  robe — especially  in 
a  confined  place  like  the  wall  space — the  cutting  out 
of  a  panel  and  the  peculiar  method  of  attack  seem 
nonsensical  and  without  proper  reason.  And  the 


212  Quintus  Oakes 

absence  of  provocation  for  those  assaults,  and  for  the 
murder  of  good  men  like  Smith  and  Mark,  point 
strongly  to  an  unbalanced  mind." 

"  Probably  correct,"  Oakes  replied.  "  And  I 
should  say  that  the  insanity  is  present  at  intervals 
only." 

"  Mr.  Oakes,"  said  Chief  Hallen  then,  "  don't  you 
think  it  advisable  to  investigate  that  story  of  the 
bandana  handkerchief  as  soon  as  possible?  Affairs 
in  town  may  become  pressing  at  any  time,  and  we 
may  be  needed  there." 

"  Yes,  Chief,  certainly.  We  should  lose  no  time 
about  it,"  said  Oakes.  Then  he  spoke  to  Martin; 
and  the  latter  retired  and  presently  returned  with 
Joe. 

The  detective  asked  the  boy  if  he  would  go  and 
point  out  the  stone  from  which  the  murderer  was 
leaping  when  the  handkerchief  fell  into  the  water. 
"  You  know  it  is  nearly  full  moon  and  several  of 
my  men  will  go  with  you,  and  so  will  Mr.  Martin." 

The  negro  assented  reluctantly,  though  bravely, 
for  he  was  not  devoid  of  superstition.  Oakes  called 
in  four  of  his  men  and  said: 


Checkmated  213 


"  Go  with  Mr.  Martin  and  Joe.  Take  lanterns, 
and  find  the  handkerchief  which  is  at  the  bottom  of 
the  stream  if  the  boy  is  telling  the  truth,  and  the 
murderer  has  not  recovered  it.  He  did  not  notice  it 
drop,  did  he,  Joe  ?  " 

"  No,  Master  Oakes;  he  just  flew  along  and  never 
looked  round.  He  did  not  know  where  it  dropped." 
The  negro  was  using  good  English,  and  standing  erect 
with  a  very  important  expression.  He  was  innocent, 
and  the  central  figure  now.  He  realized  that  dignity 
was  becoming.  An  educated  boy  of  his  race  can 
show  great  self-control  under  such  circumstances. 
Vanity — thou  Goddess  of  Transformation! 

While  the  searching  party  was  gone,  we  spent  the 
time  discussing  Mike's  peculiarities — most  of  all  his 
horseback  ride  in  the  moonlight,  a  curious  departure 
for  a  hired  man. 

"  This  whole  thing  is  unusual  in  the  extreme, 
Stone.  Since  the  night  that  you  were  escorted  to 
the  pond  by  Chief  Hallen's  men  and  there  warned 
of  impending  danger,  and  your  unknown  friend  was 
chased  by  the  man  lying  in  wait  for  you,  I  have  had 


U14  Quintus  Oakes 

a  net  around  Mike  and  Maloney  and  Cook,  but  with 
negative  results,"  said  Oakes. 

"  You  see,  Maloney  and  Cook  go  about  their  busi- 
ness in  a  quiet  fashion,  while  Mike  cannot  be  ap- 
proached very  well;  the  men  report  him  as  very 
shrewd  and  suspicious." 

"  Did  you  find  out  where  Mike  went  on  his  horse- 
back trip  ?  " 

"  No,  that  is  another  curious  thing.  The  Lorona 
man  who  brought  him  the  horse  says  he  has  done  it 
for  a  few  days  and  received  good  pay.  The  horse 
was  always  returned  promptly,  once  or  twice  by  a 
boy ;  the  other  times  by  Mike  himself." 

"  To  have  done  that,  Mike  must  have  walked  back 
from  Lorona,"  said  Hallen. 

"  No,  he  may  have  ridden  part  way.  We  found 
a  man  this  evening  who  saw  him  take  a  team  on  the 
Lorona  Highway  and  ride  into  Mona  after  dark." 

"  Where  is  Mike  now  ? "  I  inquired. 

"  Since  the  episode  of  that  horseback  ride,  wit- 
nessed by  Dr.  Moore  and  yourself,  he  has  dis- 
appeared." 

"  Disappeared !  " 


Checkmated  215 


"  Yes,  eluded  all  our  men  and  never  returned  the 
horse." 

"  Skipped !    Got  away !  "  we  cried  in  amazement. 

"  Yes,  but  he  won't  stay  away  long ;  he  will  come 
back." 

We  did  not  quite  understand  Oakes's  speech,  but 
there  evidently  was  something  behind  it. 

At  this  point,  with  his  characteristic  swiftness  of 
movement,  he  lighted  a  cigar  and  began  to  smoke, 
offering  the  box  to  us  all. 

That  meant  that,  as  far  as  he  was  concerned,  talk- 
ing on  business  had  ceased  for  a  time.  He  was  now 
recreating. 

Elliott  and  I  walked  to  a  window  and  looked  out 
upon  the  front  walk  and  the  road,  conversing  upon 
the  manner  in  which  Joe  had  been  brought  to  Mona. 

He  had  resisted  the  idea  at  first,  but  through  the 
efforts  of  Martin  and  Elliott,  and  the  promise  of  a 
reward,  he  had  finally  consented  to  the  journey. 
They  had  explained  to  him  that  his  refusal  would 
defeat  the  ends  of  justice,  and  that  escape  was  im- 
possible; and  when  he  realized  that  he  had  been 


216  Quintus  Oakes 

unconsciously  talking  to  watchers,  and  polishing 
their  shoes  in  his  innocence,  he  saw  the  folly  of 
further  remonstrance.  Thus  was  the  important 
evidence  of  the  negro  secured. 

The  strain  of  events  was  telling  on  us  all. 
Quintus  Oakes  showed  his  deep  concern  by  a  ten- 
dency to  leave  us  and  remain  alone. 

As  Elliott  and  I  were  talking,  he  looked  at  the 
rolling  hills  beyond  the  pond  and  exclaimed: 

"  Look !  Can  I  be  mistaken,  Mr.  Stone  ?  Look  in 
the  direction  of  Mona — away  off  on  the  plateau — is 
not  that  a  horse  ?  " 

I  followed  his  pointing  and  discovered  in  the 
moonlight  the  figure  of  a  horse  advancing  rapidly 
OA^er  the  blue-green  fields,  along  the  path  that  led  to 
the  bridge. 

Oakes  advanced  to  the  window  and  gazed  intently, 
shading  his  eyes  with  his  hands.  On  the  crest  of 
the  hill  that  dipped  to  the  pond  the  horse  soon  stood 
out  clearly  against  the  dark  blue  of  the  sky.  We 
could  see  a  figure  which  had  lain  low  on  his  neck  rise 
and  sit  straight  in  the  saddle,  then  flash  a  light. 

From  near  the  road,  on  our  side  of  the  pond,  came 


Checkmated  217 


an  answering  light;  a  man  stood  there  and  exchanged 
signals  with  the  horseman. 

The  rider  was  moving  his  arms  rapidly,  and  with 
them  the  light.  The  other  was  answering  in  a  sim- 
ilar manner. 

Oakes  remained  quiet,  and  we  all  gathered  at  the 
window  about  him. 

"What  is  it?  "I  asked. 

He  turned  and  said  to  me :  "  Here,  write  as  I 
read." 

I  took  an  envelope  and  pencil  from  my  pocket  and 
wrote  as  Oakes  deciphered  the  signals. 

"  A  message  from  Mona,"  he  cried.     "  Quick!  " 

Then  he  read  the  letters  as  they  appeared : 

"  Discovered.  Skinner  has  extra  out.  Pro- 
nounces me  false ;  says  Hallen  has  tricked  the  town. 
Beware  of  Skinner.  Tell  Hallen  to  look  out.  Am 
off  for  New  York." 

Then  came  a  long  wave  over  the  head,  and  the 
horseman  dashed  back  toward  Lorona. 

We  detected  another  horseman  at  a  little  distance, 
who  joined  him;  they  rapidly  disappeared  together. 

"  Excellent !  "  exclaimed  Oakes.  "  He  has  done 
his  duty  well." 


218  Quintus  Oakes 

We  saw  the  man  on  this  side  run  post  haste  for  the 
Mansion.  As  he  rushed  up  the  steps,  Oakes  met 
him.  "  All  right,  boy!  I  saw  the  signals  myself." 
Then  to  us  he  said :  "  Quintus  Oakes  the  false  is  dis- 
covered. That  was  he ;  he  came  to  warn  us." 

"  Then  Skinner  has  caught  on,  confound  him," 
said  Dowd,  and  we  all  silently  assented. 

Oakes  paced  the  room  slowly.  "  Boys,  we  have 
been  unexpectedly  checked.  The  enemy  has  a 
strong  hand :  there  is  trouble  ahead." 

"  Yes,  there  is  that,"  retorted  the  vigorous  Hallen. 
"  I  must  get  away  to  headquarters,  gentlemen !  " 

"  Correct !  "  answered  Oakes ;  "  and  we  will  go 
with  you,  Chief.  If  trouble  is  coming,  we  will  be 
useless  here." 

With  one  accord  we  prepared  to  depart  for  Mona 
immediately.  The  carriage  was  brought  to  the  door 
and  saddle-horses  also. 

Then  we  waited  anxiously  for  the  return  of  Mar- 
tin's party.  We  were  not  long  delayed.  A  commo- 
tion in  the  hall  was  heard,  and  in  stepped  Joe  and 
Martin,  followed  by  the  men.  Oakes's  assistant  ad- 
vanced and  laid  a  red  handkerchief,  dotted  with 


Checkmated  219 


white  spots,  upon  the  table.  It  was  wet  and  heavy, 
and  knotted  by  its  four  corners  so  as  to  form  a 
pouch. 

"  We  found  it,  sir,  in  about  two  feet  of  water, 
partly  covered  with  sand.  Its  weight  was  gradually 
sinking  it  into  the  bottom." 

Joe  laughed  hysterically  and  lapsed  into  negro 
dialect :  "  See,  Mars  Oakes !  see,  boss !  I  dun  tole 
you  the  truth." 

Oakes  seized  the  handkerchief,  and  we  all  looked 
inside.  It  contained  a  few  large  cartridges. 

"  They  match  the  one  I  found  in  the  cellar,  and 
those  of  the  old  revolver,"  said  Oakes.  "  The  man 
of  the  Mansion  mysteries  and  assaults  is  the  mur- 
derer of  Mr.  Mark." 

We  were  intensely  excited  as  we  stood  there  view- 
ing the  evidence  that  was  so  conclusive.  ]STot  one 
of  us  made  a  remark,  but  the  deep  breathing  of 
some  and  the  pale  faces  of  others  showed  the  inter- 
est that  was  felt  by  one  and  all. 

Oakes  discovered  on  one  end  of  the  handkerchief 
the  initial  "  S,"  and  we  all  studied  its  appearance 
closely.  Then  Oakes  asked  Hallen  if  such  handker- 
chiefs were  unusual  in  Mona. 


220  Quintus  Oakes 

"  No,  not  at  all;  there  are  hundreds  of  them 
sold  here,  especially  to  the  laborers  on  the  water- 
works— the  Italians  and  Poles,"  answered  the  Chief. 

"  It  is  a  very  peculiar  '  S,'  "  said  Oakes,  as  he 
folded  the  handkerchief  and  put  it  in  his  pocket, 
giving  the  cartridges  to  Martin.  He  said  nothing 
more,  but  seemed  serious  and  thoughtful,  as  usual. 
And  then  we  set  out  all  together  on  a  wild  drive  to 
police  headquarters. 

Despite  the  lateness  of  the  hour,  the  crowds  were 
increasing.  The  square,  with  the  hotel  on  one  side 
and  headquarters  on  the  other,  was  the  centre  of  a 
vicious  body  of  men,  pushing,  struggling  and  forcing 
its  way  along,  and  pausing  now  and  again  to  surge 
around  headquarters.  We  could  all  see  that  Hallen 
was  to  have  his  hands  full. 

"  I  should  like  to  see  Skinner  very  much,"  re- 
marked Oakes  in  a  sarcastic  vein. 

"  I  should  like  to  see  his  arms,"  said  Moore ;  "  they 
might  be  interesting." 

Oakes  looked  at  the  speaker  with  one  of  his  un- 
definable  expressions.  We  could  not  tell  whether 
the  shot  had  been  a  true  one  or  not. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

Misadventures 

Toward  morning  the  crowd  thinned.  The  street 
grew  more  quiet,  although  the  very  air  still  throbbed 
with  action,  even  as  the  heart-strokes  within  us. 
Quickly  as  events  had  come,  we  were  yet  only  in 
the  midst  of  our  experiences. 

The  clock  in  the  Chief's  room  was  striking  three, 
and  drowsiness  was  stealing  over  me,  as  over  the 
outside  world,  when  a  knock  came  at  the  front  door 
and  Hallen  admitted  a  man,  weary-eyed  and  panting. 
I  recognized  him  as  one  of  the  men  who  had  been 
masquerading  about  the  Mansion  as  a  carpenter. 
He  was  dressed  in  a  heavy  jersey  without  a  coat,  and 
was  evidently  suffering  from  fatigue. 

He  walked  over  to  Oakes  and  spoke  to  him  in  a 
low  voice.  The  detective  asked  a  question  or  two, 
and  turning  looked  at  Dr.  Moore,  asleep  in  a  chair, 
fagged  out,  then  at  me.  I  was  wide  awake,  antici- 
pating more  trouble.  "  Stone,"  said  he,  "  are  you 


222  Quintus  Oakes 


good  for  a  ride  with  me  on  horseback?  We  have 
found  something  important." 

"  Yes,"  I  answered,  "  I  am  ready." 

Speaking  a  word  to  Hallen  and  Martin,  Oakes 
drew  me  aside.  "  Leave  your  overcoat.  Come,  we 
are  needed." 

We  passed  out  into  the  night  and  down  a  side 
street,  led  by  the  man  who  had  summoned  us.  In  a 
few  minutes  we  reached  a  stable  and  found  horses, 
and  I  knew  that  it  had  been  so  arranged.  We  were 
mounted  and  off  without  notice  from  any  but  an 
hostler  and  the  proprietor,  who  had  told  me  that  my 
horse  was  strong  and  capable. 

We  pounded  to  the  east,  along  the  Highway, 
toward  Lorona,  for  a  mile  or  so,  then  swerved  into  a 
narrow  road  winding  across  the  plateau  to  the  south 
and  west.  I  knew  we  were  making  for  the  River 
Road  below  the  Mansion.  I  had  heard  of  this  lane, 
which  swept  in  a  long  curve  around  the  southern  end 
of  Mona,  connecting  the  Highway  with  Eiver  Road 
about  two  miles  south  of  the  Mansion  gate. 

As  we  galloped  along,  Oakes  communicated  to  me 
the  cause  of  our  trip. 


Misadventures  223 


"  Two  of  my  men  have  located  a  hut  deep  in  the 
forest  at  the  south  end  of  the  Mansion  grounds. 
There  is  something  going  on  there.  They  think 
they  have  the  murderer.  One  of  the  men  came  for 
me;  the  other  is  watching." 

I  felt  the  blood  surge  to  my  brain,  and  the  hard- 
ships of  the  night  were  forgotten  in  the  intensity  of 
my  anticipations.  At  last,  and  I  was  to  be  at  the 
finish! 

Instinctively  I  felt  for  my  revolver.  It  was  safe, 
and  the  assurance  that  it  was  with  me  gave  relief. 

Fortunately,  I  was  a  fair  horseman  and  my  mount 
was  one  of  those  animals  that  respond  to  the  rider's 
every  command.  My  two  companions  were  also  well 
mounted,  and  the  long  ride  was  soon  over.  Arriv- 
ing at  River  Road,  we  dismounted  and  left  the  horses 
in  charge  of  the  man  who  had  accompanied  us. 
Another  man  now  came  from  the  darkness — another 
of  Oakes's  retinue.  He  was  to  lead  us  to  the  hut. 

Then  we  three  entered  the  fringe  of  the  woods, 
and  cautiously  followed  our  guide  deep  into  the 
denser  section.  The  moon  was  hidden  occasionally 
by  fleeting  clouds,  and  as  we  advanced  farther  and 


224  Quintw  Oakes 


farther,  its  rays  ceased  to  reach  us.  All  was  gloom, 
deep  and  almost  impenetrable. 

Our  guide  whispered :  "  He  is  in  the  hut,  sir,  wait- 
ing for  someone.  Follow  me." 

Then  he  advanced  a  few  paces,  and  led  us  through 
a  more  open  section  of  the  forest.  Soon  he  stopped. 

"  Stay  here  until  you  see  a  light  flash  ahead ;  that 
is  his  signal.  He  has  been  here  an  hour,  but  his 
friend  is  slow  in  coming." 

"  Perhaps  he  knows  it  is  too  dangerous,"  said 
Oakes. 

Our  guide  went  from  us  to  a  short  distance,  to 
keep  separate  watch. 

The  giant  trees  around  were  more  scattered  than 
elsewhere  in  the  forest  through  which  we  had  passed. 
Occasionally  the  sheen  of  the  moonlight  was  visible 
far  above  us  as  the  branches  swayed  in  the  breeze. 
Here  below,  the  air  was  quiet  and  the  gloom  deep. 
Our  eyes,  accustomed  to  it  now,  could  detect  the 
silent  army  of  tree-trunks  around  us  for  a  consider- 
able distance. 

The  air  was  chilly,  but  excitement  kept  us  from 
feeling  the  need  of  our  great-coats.  Beneath  our 


Misadventures  225 


feet  the  ground  was  soft  but  dry,  and  the  leaves 
were  scattered  about  in  profusion;  for  this  was  the 
fall  of  the  year  and  the  woods  had  begun  to  strip 
at  the  touch  of  the  frost  king. 

Quintus  Cakes  stood  by  my  side  behind  a  tree. 
We  were  both  gazing  intently  in  the  direction  that 
had  been  indicated  to  us.  Nothing  was  visible  for 
a  few  moments,  when  suddenly  Oakes  pressed  my 
shoulder  with  his  hand  and  said  in  a  low,  quiet  voice : 
"  See — off  there,  that  flash !  " 

I  had  noticed  nothing,  but  as  I  drew  breath  to 
answer,  I  beheld  the  diverging  rays  of  a  light — 
probably  a  lantern — play  up  and  down  a  tree-trunk 
at  least  a  hundred  feet  away.  It  moved  quickly,  and 
then  jumped  to  another  trunk;  in  its  transit  it  threw 
a  long,  narrow  yellow  streak  on  the  ground  between. 
Then  it  would  be  lost  suddenly  to  our  view.  I 
thought  the  trees  intervened  in  our  line  of  vision  at 
such  times,  but  Oakes  explained :  "  He  is  waiting 
and  signalling  with  a  dark  lantern ;  see  how  the  light 
is  shut  off  at  will.  He  is  surely  within  a  hut  of 
some  kind;  I  can  see  the  outlines  occasionally.' 

"  What  can  he  be  up  to  ?  "  I  whispered.     "  He  is 
15 


226  Quintus  Oakes 

at  least  a  mile  from  the  Mansion,  and  nearly  as 
much  from  the  road." 

"  That  light  is  a  guide,"  said  Oakes.  "  His  con- 
federate cannot  find  the  hut  without  it;  the  forest 
is  too  dense." 

We  waited  in  silence,  stealing  very  carefully 
nearer  to  the  hut,  and  our  patience  was  finally  re- 
warded. We  saw  the  door,  which  was  sidewise  to 
us,  open  with  a  quick  movement  and  a  man  enter. 
Then  all  was  dark  within  and  without,  save  in  one 
little  spot  where,  through  the  back  wall  of  the  hut, 
a  few  rays  found  exit  in  long,  narrow  streaks  of 
yellow  light,  scarcely  visible  to  us. 

"  He  has  turned  his  bull's  eye  away  from  the 
window  and  the  door,  and  has  not  shut  it.  They  are 
using  the  light  for  some  purpose,"  said  the  detective, 
touching  my  arm  and  motioning  me  to  follow  him. 

With  utmost  caution  we  advanced  until  we  were 
near  enough  to  hear  voices.  At  first  they  came  to 
us  as  a  low,  indistinct  muttering,  but  as  we  neared 
the  hut  we  determined  that  they  were  raised  in  argu- 
ment. At  our  distance,  however,  we  were  unable  to 
recognize  either. 


Misadventures  227 


"  Keep  away  from  the  front,"  said  Oakes,  "  lest 
the  door  be  opened  and  we  be  discovered." 

We  stationed  ourselves  in  the  shadow  near  the 
window,  which  was  low  in  the  side  of  this  curious 
log-cabin — for  such  we  saw  it  to  be.  It  was  boarded 
inside  evidently,  for  the  light  was  kept  from  without 
too  well. 

Through  the  window  we  beheld  two  dim  forms 
bending  over  a  board  table.  One  was  handling 
something  like  paper,  in  the  diverging  streak  of 
illumination  from  the  bull's  eye  opening  of  the  lan- 
tern, which  was  on  the  table,  facing  the  back  wall 
of  the  hut,  just  as  Oakes  had  said. 

The  figure  could  not  be  distinguished  either  as  to 
face  or  form,  for  the  light  was  very  indistinct  save 
in  the  immediate  path  of  the  rays.  As  we  moved 
ever  so  little  from  our  chosen  positions,  our  vision 
of  the  table  and  the  streak  of  light  upon  it  was  cut 
off,  owing  to  the  small  size  of  the  window.  I  knew 
by  the  movement  of  Oakes's  arm  that  he  had  secured 
his  weapon,  and  I  closed  my  hand  about  mine,  hold- 
ing it — muzzle  down — by  my  side,  ready  for  instant 
use. 


228  Quintus  Oakes 

The  voices  within  became  louder,  and  I  dis- 
tinguished the  words :  "  You  must,  man,  you  MUST 
get  away." 

It  was  answered  by  a  half-mumbled  protest,  and 
then  we  saw  one  figure  arise  and  stoop  over  the 
light  on  the  table. 

"  Here,  take  this,  and  go !  " 

Oakes  touched  me.  "  The  murderer  preparing  to 
get  away,"  he  said. 

We  could  see  a  pair  of  hands  counting  what  ap- 
peared to  be  money;  then  they  extended  their  con- 
tents to  the  other  hands  that  awaited  them.  The 
figure  who  had  given  the  money  arose,  and  with  his 
back  to  us  made  as  if  to  leave.  Suddenly,  without 
an  instant's  warning,  we  saw  the  form  of  the  other 
come  partially  into  view,  and  an  arm  steal  slowly 
upward.  As  the  first  figure  moved  away,  it  closed 
about  his  neck  and  a  death  struggle  began,  revealed 
to  us  by  the  blurred  swaying  of  the  two  and  a  deep, 
despairing  gasp  from  the  man  being  strangled. 

"  Murder !  "  said  Oakes,  and  we  moved  toward  the 
door  of  the  hut  with  one  thought  in  mind — the  help- 


Misadventures  229 


ing  of  a  fellow  being  meeting  his  death  at  the  hands 
of  what  we  believed  to  be  the  assassin  of  Mona. 

I  was  excited ;  it  was  unquestionably  the  most  try- 
ing moment  of  my  life,  and  I  met  it  as  we  had  not 
foreseen.  Advancing  two  steps  hurriedly,  my  feet 
caught  in  one  another  somehow,  and  with  a  wild 
war-whoop  of  distress  I  fell  forward  on  my  face, 
carrying  Oakes  with  me  in  a  crashing,  headlong 
mix-up  that  must  have  been  heard  for  a  hundred 
yards  in  that  still  morning  air. 

It  was  all  over! 

The  two  in  the  hut  heard  us,  the  strangler  released 
his  hold  and  the  light  was  extinguished  instantly. 
Out  of  the  door  the  figures  flew  like  demons.  They 
were  both  anxious  to  escape  detection — that  was  evi- 
dent. They  must  have  thought  it  was  the  charge 
of  the  Light  Brigade. 

Oakes  and  I  were  up  and  after  them.  He  shouted 
a  word  of  command,  then  I  heard  more  footsteps, 
and  our  guide  answered.  Instantly  came  the 
sounds  of  a  struggle,  fierce  but  short,  in  the  darkness 
beyond.  We  could  see  nothing,  but  we  heard  a 
heavy  fall,  and  then  the  rush  of  an  escaping  man, 


230  Quintus  Oakes 

or  men.  Oakes  and  I  were  quick  to  reach  the  spot, 
and  managed  to  find  our  forest  guide  groaning  on 
the  ground. 

At  Oakes's  suggestion  we  carried  him  back  to  the 
hut,  which  I  ascertained  was  now  quite  empty.  It 
was  a  grewsome  experience,  this.  Oakes  refused  to 
allow  a  match  to  be  struck,  saying :  "  Don't  draw 
their  fire,  Stone;  we  may  be  in  a  nest  of  them." 
My  chagrin  was  deep  as  I  thought  of  the  opportunity 
that  my  clumsiness  had  brought  to  naught.  We 
soon  succeeded  in  reviving  our  man;  he  had  been 
felled  by  a  fist  blow  on  the  face,  evidently. 

"  Did  you  see  the  other  fellow  ? "  asked  my  com- 
panion. 

"  Yes,  sir,  I  saw  one;  he  was  Skinner.  I  caught 
his  face  in  the  lantern  light  just  as  they  doused  it." 

"  Indeed !  "  cried  Oakes.  "  Skinner !  You  mean 
the  man  who  runs  the  newspaper — the  one  I  have 
ordered  shadowed." 

"  Yes,  sir;  the  same.  It  was  he  who  was  counting 
the  money." 

9 

( Yes,    that    agrees.      Go    on.      Who    was    the 
other?" 


Misadventures  231 


"  I  did  not  see  him  at  all,  Mr.  Oakes,  but  I  ran 
into  him,  or  rather  he  into  me.  I  have  a  piece  of 
his  shirt  here,  sir." 

The  man  handed  something  to  Oakes,  and  to- 
gether we  peered  at  it  in  the  dim  morning  light. 
We  soon  determined  that  it  was  a  good-sized  piece 
of  the  neck  of  a  shirt. 

Then,  watching  carefully  the  woods  around,  I 
stood  on  guard,  while  Oakes  examined  the  inside 
of  the  hut.  It  was  an  old  hunter's  cabin  evidently, 
and  had  not  been  recently  used.  The  table  was 
made  of  rough  boards,  and  was  supported  by  two 
stumps.  It  might  have  served  as  a  place  to  lie 
upon  also. 

Oakes  uttered  an  exclamation,  as  the  guide  handed 
him  a  piece  of  paper  money  that  was  on  the  floor. 
N  othing  else  was  found.  The  lantern  had  gone  with 
the  men. 

"  One  man  was  giving  money  to  the  other  to  get 
him  away,  and  nearly  lost  his  life  in  defense  of  the 
rest  in  his  possession.  This  is  a  piece  of  a  bill  torn 
off  in  the  struggle,"  said  Oakes. 

"  Do  you  recognize  this  shirt  pattern?  "  asked  he. 


232  Quintus  Oakes 

"  Yes,  SIT"  said  our  guide ;  "  it  is  like  what  O'Brien 
wears." 

"  Exactly !  "  said  Oakes.  "  And  you  " — he  ad- 
dressed the  man — "  come  with  us  to  the  road.  Can 
you  walk  that  far  ?  " 

"  Yes,  indeed.  I  am  all  right  now,  but  I  was 
finished  for  a  few  minutes." 

"  You  were  knocked  out  well,"  remarked  Oakes ; 
"  lucky  you  were  not  killed." 

We  returned  to  River  Road  by  the  way  we  had 
come,  arriving  there  as  dawn  was  breaking  and  the 
sun  beginning  to  throw  his  rays  across  the  plateau 
before  us.  We  found  our  horses  and  the  man  who 
had  escorted  us  from  Mona. 

Oakes  spoke  to  him :  "  Here,  Bob,  let  Paul  ride  on 
your  horse;  he  has  had  a  smash.  You  walk.  Both 
of  you  go  to  the  Mansion  and  tell  the  others  to  find 
O'Brien,  if  possible.  Paul  will  explain.  Make  no 
arrests,  but  don't  let  your  man  get  away." 

We  vaulted  into  our  saddles  and  galloped  ahead. 
As  we  were  returning  to  headquarters  by  way  of 
the  Corners  I  felt  like  a  culprit ;  I  was  devoured  by 
chagrin,  and  thoroughly  ashamed  of  my  awkward- 
ness. 


Misadventures  233 


Oakes's  face  was  grave — much  more  so  than  usual 
— but  he  rode  his  horse  with  alertness  and  confidence, 
and  I  wondered  at  the  endurance  he  displayed — also 
at  his  consideration;  for  in  this  hour,  when  keen  dis- 
appointment must  have  been  his,  he  did  not  mention 
my  mishap,  which  had  so  changed  events.  He  acted 
as  though  it  were  beneath  him  to  notice  it,  and  that 
made  me  all  the  more  mortified;  but  at  the  same 
time  I  vowed  to  redeem  myself  in  his  eyes. 

Dashing  toward  the  Mansion  gate,  we  both  pulled 
up  our  horses  as  Oakes  uttered  a  sudden  exclama- 
tion. He  rested  one  hand  on  the  pommel  of  his 
saddle  and  pointed  with  the  other  at  a  man  inside 
the  Mansion  gate.  His  back  was  toward  us,  and  he 
had  been  raking  the  walk  apparently. 

"  Look — notice !  "  and  the  voice  of  my  companion 
grew  sharp  and  significant ;  "  look !  " 

The  man  was  now  reaching  upward  with  one  hand, 
the  rake  held  within  its  grasp,  and  with  a  graceful, 
well-calculated  swing  he  was  deftly  denuding  a 
branch  overhead  of  its  dying  leaves. 

"  Well,  I  see,"  I  answered;  "  it's  Maloney  clean- 
ing up." 


234  Quintus  Oakes 

"  Exactly !  "  came  the  staccato  answer ;  "  but  how 
about  the  strength  of  the  wrist  that  can  handle  such 
a  heavy  rake  with  such  certainty  ? " 

"  Oh,  yes,  he's  strong,"  I  cried.  "  He's  got  plenty 
of  muscle,  apparently." 

"  He  has  a  strong  wrist  and  a  strong  arm,  and 
not  such  an  awfully  large  chest,"  answered  Oakes 
calmly,  as  though  speaking  of  the  weather  or  of 
something  of  no  importance.  Fool  that  I  was,  it  was 
only  then  that  his  meaning  suddenly  went  home  to 
my  slow-acting  brain.  I  saw  a  light  in  Oakes's  eyes 
that  I  had  never  seen  before — cool,  steely,  calculat- 
ing. 

"No,"  I  whispered;  "impossible! — but  you  are 
searching  for  just  such  a  person." 

"  Yes,  of  course,"  was  the  laconic  answer;  "  but 
let's  talk  with  the  gentleman  of  the  rake." 

Oakes  led  the  way  to  within  a  few  feet  of  the 
gate,  then  rising  in  his  stirrups  shouted  to  Maloney. 

The  latter  turned,  and  with  a  look  of  recognition 
came  quickly  toward  us.  "  Good  morning,  sir; — 
good  morning,  Mr.  Clark.  I  was  going  to  head- 


Misadventures  235 


quarters  for  you  soon,  sir;  they  told  me  you  had  gone 
there  with  Chief  Hallen " 

"  Yes !    Why  did  you  wish  to  go  there,  Maloney  ?  " 

"  Because,  sir,  there  is  something  wrong — some- 
thing about  the  mystery  here.  You  know,  sir,  you 
left  word  to  report  if  anything  unusual  happened." 

Maloney  spoke  quietly,  and  without  embarrass- 
ment. We  had  noticed  before  that  he  was  fairly 
well  educated — another  victim  of  unfortunate  cir- 
cumstances. 

"  What  has  occurred  ?  "  There  was  a  hard  ring 
in  Oakes's  voice.  It  told  me  to  be  discreet;  I  had 
heard  that  accent  before. 

"  Mr.  Clark,  I  went  down  to  Lorona  last  night  to 
see  my  brother,  who  is  sick.  When  I  returned  it 
was  late.  I  was  on  horseback,  and  I  noticed  a  man 
on  the  road  lighting  a  lantern.  I  spoke  to  him;  he 
would  not  answer,  but  started  into  the  timber  at  the 
far  south  end  of  the  grounds." 

"  Well,  what  was  peculiar  ?  " 

"  It  was  Skinner,  sir." 

"Skinner!" 

"  Yes,  sir ;  I  saw  his  face  by  the  light.     I  thought 


236  Quintus  Oakes 

it  strange,  tied  my  horse  and  followed  him.  He 
went  a  long  way  into  the  woods  to  a  hut,  and  waited 
a  couple  of  hours  with  the  light.  Then  another  man 
came,  and  they  had  a  quarrel.  There  was  a  terrible 
noise,  and  then  the  light  went  out  and  they  disap- 
peared. I  went  back  to  my  horse  and  have  just  got 
here." 

"  Who  was  with  Skinner?  " 

"  I  don't  know,  sir.  I  was  facing  the  door  of  the 
hut,  but  it  was  too  dark  to  see.  They  worked  with 
a  dark  lantern." 

We  had  quietly  walked  our  horses  up  to  the  gate 
while  listening  to  Maloney.  Oakes's  eyes  were  upon 
the  ground. 

Suddenly  he  looked  up.  "  Thank  you  very  much, 
Maloney.  You  have  done  well  in  reporting  to  me. 
I  will  see  Chief  Hallen ;  this  is  a  matter,  perhaps,  for 
the  police,  certainly  not  for  me,  to  work  on." 

Wheeling  our  horses,  we  darted  to  the  Corners 
and  on  toward  Mona. 

Quintus  Oakes  was  very  quiet;  he  seemed  annoyed' 
— or  nonplussed — and  the  pace  that  he  set  was  ter- 
rific. As  we  neared  the  town  we  slowed  up,  and  I 


Misadventures  237 


asked  excitedly  of  the  taciturn  man  by  my  side: 
"Tell  me,  what's  up?" 

He  turned  slightly  in  his  saddle.  "  Maloney  was 
there;  he  acknowledged  it.  So  far  he  told  the  truth; 
but  he  lied  about  returning  on  horseback.  There 
were  no  hoof-marks  going  toward  the  stable — none 
entered  the  Mansion  gate.  And  he  lied  also  about 
his  brother  in  Lorona,  for  there  is  no  such  relative 
of  his  there;  Maloney  has  no  brothers  or  sisters 
hereabouts." 

I  now  remembered  Oakes's  careful  scrutiny  of  the 
ground  while  we  were  talking  with  Maloney,  and  I 
also  realized  how  close  was  the  net  he  had  spread 
about  everyone  at  the  Mansion. 

"  If  Maloney  was  at  the  hut,  how  did  he  get  back 
ahead  of  us  ? "  I  asked. 

"  Ran,  of  course — took  the  inside  way  through  the 
woods;  he  knows  the  paths  well.  He  may  not  only 
have  been  near  the  hut,  Stone,  he  may  have  been  in 
it.  If  so,  he  tried  to  kill  Skinner,  for  the  old  man 
had  money." 

Then  Oakes  continued :  "  Perhaps  it  was  Maloney 
who  was  about  to  get  away,  if  he  could.  But  he 


238  Quintus  Oakes 

can't,"  the  detective  added  with  a  sardonic  laugh, 
as  he  closed  his  jaws  firmly. 

"  But,"  I  exclaimed,  "  suppose  it  was  Maloney, 
what  of  O'Brien  \  He  was  there ;  we  have  his  shirt 
— in  part  at  least." 

"  Oh,  bother  O'Brien !  he  makes  me  tired,"  cried 
Oakes  enigmatically ;  "  he  will  get  himself  into 
trouble  some  day." 

"  Yes,  yes,"  I  contended;  "  but  he  too  has  strong 
arms  and  a  strong  wrist  and  could  have  used  the 
revolver." 

"  Surely !  So  could  many  men.  These  clues  are 
merely  the  primary  ones.  Many  men  answer  their 
requirements.  They  are  worth  very  little  by  them- 
selves. They  simply  point  to  a  certain  type  of  man. 
They  are  simply  links,  as  yet  unforged  into  the 
chain." 

"  But  one  thing  more,  Oakes,"  I  cried,  "  why 
should  Maloney  volunteer  the  information  that  he 
was  at  the  place  if  he  had  no  good  excuse  for  being 
there?" 

"  That's  it  exactly.  Perhaps  he  mistrusts  he  was 
seen  and  wants  to  get  in  his  story  first.  Perhaps  he 


Misadventures  239 


cannot  hold  his  tongue;  perhaps  his  mind  is  weak. 
We  are  looking  for  a  mind  somewhat  unusual,  Stone, 
remember  that" 

We  were  now  at  the  Square  in  front  of  the  little 
hotel  and,  dismounting,  we  proceeded  to  enter  the 
door  of  the  inn.  As  we  did  so,  I  took  my  companion 
by  the  arm  and  drew  him  aside. 

"  Say,  Oakes,"  I  said,  "  don't  tell  Dr.  Moore  how 
I  involved  matters  by  that  stumble.  I  would  never 
hear  the  end  of  it." 

Oakes  looked  surprised,  then  his  eyes  beamed  in 
merriment.  He  smiled  ever  so  slightly. 

"  That  certainly  was  a  beautiful  charge  you  made 
over  me,"  said  he. 

He  did  not  promise  not  to  tell,  however;  but 
months  afterwards,  Dr.  Moore  learned  all  about  it 
from  me,  and  I  then  found  that  Quintus  had  re- 
mained silent. 


After  breakfast,  while  Oakes  gave  the  doctor  a 
brief  resume  of  our  night's  adventure,  the  two  rival 
newspapers  came  out  with  "  extras  "  on  the  recent 
doings.  Skinner's  comments  were  sarcastic  and 
bitter,  and,  while  not  actually  inciting  to  lawlessness, 
played  upon  the  roused  feelings  of  the  townspeople 
by  scathing  allusions  to  Hallen's  inefficiency,  and  by 
reiterating  the  story  of  the  false  Quintus  Oakes. 

Our  friend  Dowd,  on  the  other  hand,  came  for- 
ward with  a  moderate,  well-worded  article  that 
swayed  the  minds  of  the  more  thoughtful.  The 
reading  of  his  words  won  us  more  friends.  Who 
does  not  like  to  hear  two  sides  of  an  argument,  or  to 
read  cool  words  of  wisdom  from  one  whose  career 
entitles  him  to  respect? 

We  had  learned  at  breakfast  that  Hallen  had 
taken  hold  with  a  grip  of  iron  during  the  night. 


A  Faulty  Stvry  241 

Many  arrests  had  followed  his  activity,  and  the 
quietude  of  the  forenoon  was  largely  due  to  his 
efforts  of  the  night  before. 

As  we  stood  outside  the  hotel  remarking  upon  the 
changed  appearance  of  the  streets,  our  attention  was 
attracted  to  a  small  crowd  approaching  the  Square 
from  the  direction  of  the  Corners.  There  were  men 
running  ahead  and  shouting;  then  a  close,  compact 
body  swaying  around  a  central  attraction.  We 
thought  we  detected  a  man  being  helped  along  as 
though  he  were  severely  injured,  and  we  clearly  dis- 
tnguished  the  words  "  Shot  at!  "  "  The  murderer!  " 
and  many  expressions  of  anger  and  terror. 

Oakes  looked  into  the  mass  of  men  and  scanned 
the  pale  face  of  the  injured  one.  "  It's  Maloney," 
he  said,  seizing  the  doctor  and  myself  by  the  arm. 
He  pushed  his  way  forward  as  the  crowd  recognized 
and  opened  for  Mr.  Clark. 

"  Well,  Maloney,  what  is  it  ?  "  asked  Oakes. 

"  I  was  shot  at,  sir,"  he  exclaimed,  "  shot  at,  in 
the  very  spot  where  Mr.  Mark  was  killed;  and  then, 
sir,  someone  hit  me  a  blow  on  the  head,  and  I  fell." 

I  saw  Oakes  run  his  hand  over  Maloney's  scalp. 
16 


242  Quintus  Oakes 


"  I  was  dazed,  sir,  when  these  men  found  me," 
finished  the  gardener. 

"  Yes,"  said  two  laborers,  "  we  found  him  on  the 
ground  just  waking  up,  and  acting  queer-like.  And 
here's  the  revolver;  it  was  lying  behind  the  rock, 
sir." 

"  How  did  it  happen  ?  "  asked  Oakes. 

"  I  heard  a  shot  near  me,"  Maloney  answered,  "  a 
heavy  revolver  shot.  I  turned,  and  was  then  hit 
with  something  like  a  sand-bag,  I  guess,  for  every- 
thing got  dim." 

Hallen  walked  him  into  the  headquarters  building, 
to  avoid  the  rapidly  increasing  crowd. 

"  Shut  the  doors,"  he  ordered.  The  command 
was  quickly  obeyed,  and  we  who  had  worked  to- 
gether were  all  within  the  building  now,  away  from 
the  crowd. 

"  Who  was  it  ?  "  asked  Hallen  of  Maloney. 

The  man  hesitated  a  while,  but  upon  being  pressed 
for  an  answer  finally  replied :  "  I  have  not  dared  to 
mention  my  suspicions,  sir,  but  the  fellow  looked  like 
Mike  O'Brien.  At  any  rate,  he  was  wounded;  he 
was  walking  with  a  limp,  sir,  and  I  saw  blood  on  his 


A  Faulty  Story  243 

trousers  leg.  He  must  have  been  in  a  scrap  or  an 
accident." 

"  When  I  was  coming  to,"  he  continued,  "  I  saw 
him  hiding  a  revolver  behind  a  rock.  I  pointed  out 
the  place  to  the  men  when  they  came  a  few  moments 
after,  and  they  found  it." 

"Why  did  you  not  cry  out  for  help?"  asked 
Oakes  suddenly,  even  viciously,  I  thought. 

Maloney  answered  quickly :  "  Because  he  thought 
I  was  dead,  and  I  let  him  think  so.  If  I  had  made 
any  noise,  sir,  he  would  have  finished  me.  I  did  not 
move  until  I  knew  help  was  near." 

"  Good !  "  said  Oakes ;  "  you  had  presence  of 
mind.  Let  us  see  the  revolver;  the  men  left  it  here, 
did  they  not?" 

Hallen  stepped  forward  with  the  weapon. 

Oakes  examined  it;  but  his  look  informed  us  that 
it  was  not  the  old  one  taken  from  the  wall  in  the 
Mansion. 

Further  questioning  failed  to  reveal  anything  of 
importance,  but  it  seemed  clear  from  what  Maloney 
said  that  the  assaulter  escaped  on  horseback  after  he 
was  seen  by  his  intended  victim,  for  Maloney  in- 


244  Quintus  Oakes 

sisted  that  he  had  heard  a  galloping  horse  afterwards. 

"  He  was  wounded,  you  said  ?  "  queried  the  detec- 
tive. 

"  Yes,  sir,  quite  badly,  I  thought." 

Moore  examined  Maloney's  injury  and  took  care- 
ful note  of  his  condition ;  then  the  gardener  was  told 
to  go,  and  he  was  soon  joined  outside  by  the  two 
laborers — his  new  found  friends.  Together  they 
went  for  the  hotel  bar  across  the  street  As  they 
disappeared,  Oakes  exchanged  glances  with  the  doc- 
tor, and  I  knew  that  something  was  wrong.  There 
came  a  long  silence,  which  Hallen  finally  broke. 

"  This  is  a  queer  story,  Oakes ;  I  don't  understand 
it.  Is  it  the  murderer  at  work  again — and  O'Brien 
accused?  You  say  the  Mansion  mysteries  are  the 
work  of  the  same  hand  that  shot  Mr.  Mark,  and  pos- 
sibly Mr.  Smith.  But  those  mysteries  are  old,  and 
O'Brien  is  a  recent  arrival  here  and  knows  very  little 
of  the  Mansion.  I  cannot  see  his  guilt.  How  do 
you  explain  it,  Oakes  ?  " 

The  keen  man  addressed  faced  the  Chief,  and  we 
all  knew  the  words  that  were  coming  were  valuable. 

"  Chief,  I  have  just  told  you  of  Mr.  Stone's  ad- 


A  Faulty  Story  245 

ventures  with  me  this  morning — of  my  proof  that 
Maloney  lied  to  us.  Well,  he  has  lied  again." 

"  Yes/'  chimed  in  Dr.  Moore,  "  the  man's  a  fake. 
He  was  not  seriously  injured,  if  at  all." 

"  I  saw  through  Maloney's  story  instantly,"  con- 
tinued Oakes.  "  He  said  he  was  assaulted  by 
O'Brien,  who  was,  according  to  his  own  story,  a 
badly  wounded  man.  He  said  O'Brien  hid  the  re- 
volver afterwards,  while  he,  Maloney,  was  shamming 
death,  and  that  O'Brien  sought  to  escape.  It  is  non- 
sense." 

"  Why  ?     I  fail  to  see !  "  I  asked  excitedly. 

Oakes  turned  to  me :  "  Why,  Stone,  don't  you  see 
the  flaws  ?  Would  a  seriously  injured  man  attempt 
deliberate  murder?  What  show  would  he  have  to 
escape?  Then,  again,  if  able  to  get  away  himself, 
would  he  hide  the  revolver  near  the  scene  of  the 
crime,  behind  a  rock?  No,  he  would  take  it  with 
him  as  a  defensive  weapon,  or  else  hide  it  where  it 
never  could  be  found;  in  the  Hudson,  for  instance, 
or  the  brook — both  near  at  hand." 

"True  enough,"  cried  Hallen,  his  face  showing 
his  admiration;  "  but  what's  your  idea,  then, 
Oakes?" 


246  Quintw  Oakes 

"  Just  this,  gentlemen.  Maloney  himself  shot 
O'Brien,  and  seeing  the  latter  escape  knew  that  his 
game  was  up,  for  he  had  been  identified  by  O'Brien. 
So  he  hid  the  revolver  that  he  himself  used,  and  then 
pretended  to  have  been  sand-bagged  and  shot  at. 
He  relied  on  the  weight  of  his  word  against 
O'Brien's,  not  knowing  anything  of  the  evidence  col- 
lected against  him  or  that  we  were  anything  but 
agents  and  workmen  about  the  Mansion  ?  " 

The  Chief  looked  long  and  half  sceptically  at 
Oakes,  then  asked :  "  Does  Maloney  meet  your  re- 
quirements ?  Does  he  fill  the  bill  ?  " 

"  Well,  he  has  a  strong  wrist  and  long  arms," 
answered  Oakes — that  places  him  among  the  pos- 
sibles; he  also  has  a  comparatively  narrow  chest,  such 
as  the  man  had  who  wore  the  robe — you  remember 
we  reasoned  that  out.  Those  three  things  cover 
much  ground.  Then,  again,  he  is  an  old  resident, 
knows  all  about  the  Mansion,  was  here  when  Smith 
was  murdered." 

Elliott  now  spoke  up :  "  Oakes,  you  said  the  mur- 
derer was  a  good  shot.  Is  Maloney  a  good  shot  with 
a  revolver  ? " 


A  Faulty  Story  247 

"  Yes,  he  was ;  he  used  to  belong  to  the  National 
Guard  years  ago.  He  was  a  splendid  shot  then, 
according  to  evidence  procured  by  my  men." 

"  But  the  revolver  to-day  was  not  the  old  one  ? " 
queried  the  Chief. 

"  No,"  answered  Oakes ;  "  but  he  can  easily  have 
two." 

"  I  had  better  arrest  him  now  as  a  suspicious  per- 
son," exclaimed  Hallen  excitedly. 

"  Not  yet.  Let  us  be  sure  first — remember  Skin- 
ner has  a  motive  for  crossing  us;  he  has  tried  to 
defeat  the  aims  of  justice  right  through.  He  was 
dealing  money  this  morning  to  someone ;  suppose  it 
was  to  Maloney — what  is  his  reason  ?  " 

Hallen  thumped  the  table  furiously  as  though  a 
new  thought  had  come  to  him.  "  Skinner  answers 
the  physical  requirements  also,  Mr.  Oakee — he  was 
also  a  guardsman — a  good  shot." 

"  Yes,"  answered  Oakes,  "  but  scarcely  strong 
enough  to  overpower  me  at  the  Mansion." 

"  Unless  he  was  acting  while  in  mania,  as  we  pre- 
sume this  criminal  acts,"  said  Moore. 

I  sat  spellbound  as  these  men  discussed  the  in- 


248  Quintus  Oakes 

tricacies  of  the  affair,  realizing  the  truth  of  their 
reasonings  and  marvelling  at  the  clues,  conceptions 
and  brilliant  memories  revealed,  especially  by  the 
masterly  Oakes. 

"  Too  bad  you  cannot  find  Skinner,  and  see  what 
he  is  up  to,"  I  remarked. 

"  We  must  let  Hallen  keep  watch  on  him  until 
we  are  ready  for  our  final  move.  It  would  be  easy 
to  arrest  him  on  suspicion,  but  that  might  defeat  our 
object,  and,  again,  I  do  not  believe  in  making  arrests 
until  my  case  is  clear,"  said  Oakes. 

"  Do  you  not  think  Skinner  might  be  the  mur- 
derer ? "  I  asked. 

"  Not  as  I  see  things  now.  It  seems  more  prob- 
able that  he  is  interested  in  someone  whom  he  wants 
to  get  out  of  harm's  way.  His  motive  throughout 
this  affair  has  been  to  hide  the  guilty,  I  think." 

"  And  what  do  you  make  of  that  man  O'Brien  ?  " 
queried  Dowd;  "he  seems  to  be  a  mysterious  fellow." 

Oakes  and  Hallen  exchanged  knowing  glances. 
"  He's  another  possibility;  he's  a  little  Tartar,"  said 
the  detective. 

"  But  won't  Maloney  get  away  now  ? "  asked 
Elliott. 


A  Faulty  Story  249 

"  Nit,"  was  the  answer  from  Hallen.  u  Those 
two  l  laborers  '  with  him  are  my  '  specials.'  " 

I  was  getting  entirely  tied  up  now,  but,  desiring  to 
appear  erudite  and  worthy  of  such  company,  I 
blurted  forth :  "  Who  is  Mike  O'Brien,  anyway  ?  " 

Oakee  looked  at  us  all  coolly  and  exasperatingly. 
"  He  seems  to  be  a  little  extra  thrown  in.  I'll  tell 
you  all  about  it  when  you  tell  me  if  the  '  S  '  on  the 
handkerchief  has  anything  to  do  with  Mr.  Skinner." 

An  exclamation  of  surprise  went  up.  We  had  all 
forgotten  that.  But  before  we  could  resume,  a  mes- 
sage arrived  for  Oakes.  It  was  brought  by  one  of 
the  men  whom  we  knew  so  well  by  sight  around  the 
Mansion.  He  told  of  the  finding  of  a  burned  tree, 
hidden  in  the  forest,  near  the  scene  of  the  murder 
of  Mr.  Mark.  Those  who  were  searching  had  dis- 
covered that  the  tree  was  recently  struck  by  light- 
ning and  that  within  its  burned  interior  was  ash. 

The  man  had  brought  some  with  him,  and  also  a 
small,  crumpled  piece  of  newspaper.  Oakes  looked 
carefully  at  them  as  we  glanced  over  his  shoulder. 

"  At  last !  "  cried  he.  "  Here  is  wood  ash — wet, 
as  was  that  on  the  robe ;  and  here  is  paper  like  that 


250  Quintus  Oakes 

of  the  '  Daily  News/  which  we  found  in  the  robe ;  is 
it  not?" 

"  Yes,"  cried  Moore.     "  It  is  indeed — can  it  be  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  came  the  answer  from  Oakes ;  "  my  orders 
to  search  for  the  origin  of  the  ash  have  been  crowned 
with  success.  The  robe  was  in  that  tree." 

"  But,"  I  cried,  "  of  what  value  is  that?  " 

"  Just  this — the  robe  was  not  worn  at  the  time  of 
the  murder.  Remember,  Joe  did  not  see  it — it  had 
been  hidden,  probably.  The  murderer  used  it  to  go 
and  to  come  in,  but  for  some  unknown  reason  dis- 
carded it  at  the  shooting." 

"  Excuse  me,"  said  the  messenger,  "  excuse  me, 
Mr.  Oakes — but  that's  about  right.  The  tree  was 
beyond  the  stone  where  he  crossed  and  lost  the  hand- 
kerchief. He  was  running  for  the  robe,  sir;  the 
murderer  was  after  his  disguise." 

Oakes  looked  at  his  subordinate  calmly  and  smiled 
ever  so  slightly.  The  man  bowed  and  retreated, 
abashed  at  his  own  impetuosity. 

Hallen  turned  to  our  friend  Oakes  and  said :  "  I 
never  in  my  life  saw  anything  like  this — like  you." 

Oakes,  always    ready  to  side-step    praise  in  any 


A  Faulty  Stvry  251 

form,  answered,  with  one  of  his  chilling  glances: 
"  Oh,  bother!    You're  young  yet,  Hallen;  you  need 


Hallen  half  resentfully  yanked  his  cap  on  his  head 
and  strode  to  the  door. 

"  Well,"  he  remarked,  "  here's  where  I  take  a 
look  at  Maloney's  arms — I  am  dead  tired  of  theoriz- 
ing." 

"  Stop !  "  commanded  Oakes ;  "  you'll  spoil  it  alL" 

"  I  won't  spoil  the  cross  on  the  arm — the  cross  of 
indigo — if  it's  there;  and  if  it  ain't  there,  it  ain't. 
Hang  it  all,  anyway."  And  forthwith  Hallen  strode 
out  the  door,  down  the  steps  toward  the  hotel  bar- 
room, with  Oakes  and  the  rest  of  us  following  in.  a 
vain  endeavor  to  head  him  off. 

When  we  reached  the  bar-room,  Hallen  was  al- 
ready in  the  side  room.  We  rushed  toward  the  little 
room  door,  expecting  to  see  Maloney  in  the  grasp  of 
Hallen;  but  instead,  we  beheld  the  Chief  gazing  in 
stupefaction  at  his  two  men  dead  drunk,  heads  be- 
tween their  hands  on.  the  little  round  table. 

" -  !  "  cried  the  Chief 

in  a  voice  that  shook  the  glasses  on  the  shelves  in 


252  Quintus  Oakes 

the  bar-room  and  brought  the  white-coated  attendant 
with  one  bound  to  the  door.  "  Hell — en — Maloney's 
escaped." 

"  Escaped !  "  cried  the  bar-keeper.  "  Escaped ! — 
nit.  Why,  he  paid  for  the  drinks  and  walked  out 
half  an  hour  ago — said  he  had  a  job  at  the  Man- 
sion. These  fellows — gosh !  "  cried  the  man  as  he 
shook  them — "  drunk !  What's  up — what  does  it 
mean,  Chief?" 

Then  Quintus  Oakes  spoke  in  tones  of  dulcet  and 
ineffable  sweetness,  cooingly,  charmingly.  "  It 
means  that  Chief  Hallen  pays  for  a  round  of  the  best 
you've  got.  In  order  to  see  a  cross  on  a  man's  arm 
it  becomes  necessary  first  to  catch  the  man — some- 
thing like  the  bird's  tail  and  the  salt  proposition." 

"  Mix  'em  up  quick !  "  shouted  Hallen,  advancing 
to  the  bar.  "  Hell — en — be  damned !  Get  the  two 
samples  of  Mona's  police  out  into  the  air!  Hell — 
en !" 


CHAPTER  XX 

A  Man's  Confession 

The  assault  upon  Maloney  was  now  the  talk  of  the 
town.  Hallen,  who  had  enjoyed  a  respite  from  cen- 
sure, was  again  furiously  blamed  for  inability  and 
incompetence.  None  but  our  select  few  discerned 
that  Maloney  was  lying,  for  none  knew  as  much  of 
the  intricacies  of  the  case  as  did  we.  All  were  cry- 
ing out  for  the  instant  arrest  of  the  one  who  had 
attempted  to  kill  him,  but  none  but  the  few  who  had 
heard  Maloney's  statement  within  headquarters 
knew  that  it  was  O'Brien  he  had  accused — and  only 
those  few  knew  that  his  story  was  probably  false. 

Although  the  order  had  gone  forth  quietly,  as  we 
knew,  to  "  find  Mike  O'Brien,"  still  it  was  not  known 
to  any  save  Hallen's  and  Oakes's  men. 

The  masses  were  in  ignorance  of  the  strides  we 
had  made  twards  the  solution  of  the  horrible  hap- 
penings at  Mona,  and,  of  course,  Hallen  was  getting 
more  than  he  deserved  in  the  way  of  criticism. 


254  Quintus  Oakes 


Oakes  told  us  that  he  momentarily  expected  some 
new  developments  in  the  case,  as  Hallen  was  en- 
deavoring to  find  Skinner  and  bring  him  to  the  Man- 
sion. His  surmises  proved  true,  for  it  was  found 
an  easy  matter  to  locate  the  old  man;  and  early  in 
the  evening  Hallen  arrived  at  the  Mansion  and 
joined  us  in  the  apartments  upstairs,  and  with  him 
were  Martin  and  Skinner. 

Dowd,  the  rival  of  the  old  man,  was  with  us,  hav- 
ing begged  earnestly  of  Oakes  to  be  allowed  to  follow 
as  close  to  the  action  as  possible,  and  having  stuck 
by  us  like  a  veritable  leech  since  the  morning. 
Dowd  was  a  nice  fellow,  and  a  newspaper  man  from 
start  to  finish,  and  he  seemed  to  have  developed  as 
great  liking  for  Oakes. 

We  were  all  upstairs,  when  Martin  ushered  in  the 
tall,  rather  slender,  but  powerful  old  man,  Skinner. 
None  of  us,  save  Hallen,  had  seen  him  at  close  range 
before;  but  I  saw  a  curious  expression,  half  of  de- 
fiance, half  of  dismay,  in  his  face,  that  made  me  watch 
him  most  closely.  Dr.  Moore  was  scanning  his  feat- 
ures carefully  in  a  way  that  showed  he  had  detected 
something,  but  Quintus  Oakes,  rising  from  his  seat 


A  Man's  Confession  255 

and  advancing  politely  to  meet  the  old  gentleman, 
seemed  neither  to  have  seen  anything  nor  to  know 
anything.  He  was  just  the  polished  gentleman  we 
all  knew  so  well;  but  I  noticed  that,  as  he  shook 
hands  with  Mr.  Skinner,  he  cast  a  quick  glance  at 
the  man's  arm  and  the  wrist,  and  then  at  the  old 
man's  eyes. 

Moore  whispered:  "He  has  excluded  Skinner  as 
the  criminal.  Look!  see  him  take  it  all  in." 

Oakes  was  leading  Skinner  to  a  seat,  and  as  he 
walked,  he  spoke  freely.  He  had  discovered  that 
which  Dr.  Moore  had  also  seen,  but  which  I  had 
failed  to  detect. 

"Mr.  Skinner,  allow  me,"  said  he,  gracefully. 
"It's  not  well  lighted  here;  I  imagine  that  little 
white  scar  on  your  right  eye — on  your  cornea,  just  in 
front  of  the  pupil — interferes  somewhat  with  your 
vision." 

"  Yes,  Mr.  Clark,  it  does  interfere  just  a  trifle." 

"  Just  enough  to  spoil  duck-shooting,  eh !  I  un- 
derstand you  used  to  be  quite  fond  of  that  sort  of 
thing,  Mr.  Skinner." 

Moore  and  Hallen  exchanged  glances;  and  the 


256  Quintus  Oakes 

knowledge  was  general  to  us — the  old  man  was  not 
the  murderer,  for  the  assassin  could  shoot  well,  and 
the  old  scar  on  the  eye  prevented  that  in  Skinner's 
case. 

"  But  to  what  do  I  owe  the  honor  of  a  request  to 
call  at  the  Mansion,  escorted  by  such  a  nice  young 
man,  to  see  Mr.  Clark,  the  agent?  "  queried  Skinner. 

The  old  fellow  was  shrewd — he  looked  at  Hallen 
and  smiled  half-heartedly.  Then  he  looked  at  me, 
and  remarked  that  we  had  met  before  somewhere, 
and  extending  his  hand  to  Moore,  he  said  he  guessed 
he  was  glad  to  know  us  all  better.  Then  turning 
quietly  to  Chief  Hallen,  he  laughed,  and  gave  us  a 
shock  from  which  we  were  unable  to  rally  for  a  few 
moments. 

"  Well,  Chief,  they're  keeping  you  busy.  They 
tell  me  you  don't  like  it  because  1  exposed  that  fellow 
who  palmed  himself  off  as  Mr.  Quintus  Oakes — that 
man  Rogers,  you  know." 

"No,  1  did  not  like  it  particularly — it  interfered 
with  my  plans;  I  am  trying  to  catch  the  murderer 
of  Mr.  Mark,  you  know." 

"Suppose  you  are!  you  haven't  got  him  yet. 


A  Man's  Confession  257 

You  can  search  me,  Chief.  I  think  Mr.  Quintus 
Cakes  here  is  entitled  to  all  the  credit  so  far — eh — 
don't  you?" 

The  old  fellow  turned  to  Oakes  as  he  spoke  the 
words  that  showed  he  was  not  to  be  fooled  into  be- 
lieving Oakes  was  Clark. 

"We  moved  nearer.     Skinner  knew  all,  apparently. 

Then  Oakes  arose  to  meet  the  occasion,  and  stood 
before  the  old  man:  "  Mr.  Skinner,  I  thank  you  for 
warning  me  not  to  come  to  Mona — it  was  your  letter 
I  received.  But  why  did  you  warn  me  ?  "Was  it  to 
protect  your  secret?" 

Oakes  had  acted  all  along  as  though  he  had  learned 
some  things  he  had  not  spoken  of  to  us — he  and  Hal- 
len  had  seemed  to  comprehend  more  than  we  others 
knew;  but  I  was  scarce  prepared  for  such  a  sudden 
revelation. 

"  Stop!  "  cried  the  old  man,  "  stop!  you  have  no 
right — I  did  warn  you  to  keep  away  from  Mona — I 
knew  of  the  Mansion  mysteries — I  knew  you  by 
sight  in  New  York — I  recognized  you  here  on  your 
first  visit — I  did  not  want  to  see  a  good  man  get  in 
trouble." 

17 


258  Quintus  Oakes 

"Thank  you,"  said  Oakes,  "thank  you.  Your 
kindness  was  appreciated,  but  you  have  another 
motive — you  are  shielding  someone." 

"None — no  one,"  came  the  answer. 

"  Nonsense !  "  and  Oakes's  eyes  blazed  as  he  spoke ; 
"you  tried  to  send  him  away  this  morning.  You 
gave  him  money  at  the  hut.  You  were  nearly  killed 
by  the  man  you  are  protecting.  Can  you  explain 
it?" 

The  old  man  was  shaking  violently.  He  arose, 
tottered  and  sat  down.  Then  burying  his  head  in 
his  hands,  he  remained  silent  for  a  space  of  seconds. 
Then  shaking  his  head,  he  moaned:  "No,  I  can't 
explain.  I  had  given  him  all.  Mr.  Oakes,  he  was 
not  robbing  me — he  seemed  angry — he — I  could  not 
understand." 

"I  can,"  said  Oakes.  "The  man  you  have  be- 
friended these  many  years,  the  man  Maloney  who 
used  to  work  with  you  in  your  shop,  to  whom  you 
gave,  among  many  other  things,  a  red  bandana  hand- 
kerchief with  your  initial '  S  '  upon  it — one  of  those 
handkerchiefs  you  use  about  the  printing  office — 
that  man,  we  think,  is  a  maniac.  "We  surmise  that 


A  Mans  Confession  259 

lie  has  the  killing  mania.     Did  you  not  suspect  it  ?  " 

The  old  man's  manner  changed  to  one  of  terrified 
inquiry.  "  Why,  I  never  suspected — I — I  thought 
he  was  peculiar — I  mistrusted  he  was  at  the  bottom 
of  the  Mansion  mysteries — 1  wanted  to  send  him 
away  to  give  him  a  show." 

Oakes  hesitated,  then  answered  evasively,  but 
forcefully :  "  Maloney  is  probably  irresponsible.  He 
is  the  man  of  the  Mansion — the  woman,  so  called, 
of  the  Smith  murder — the  murderer  of  Mr.  Mark — 
we  believe,  but  we  are  without  proof  as  yet." 

The  old  man's  face  filled  with  the  blood  dammed 
back  from  the  throbbing  heart,  then  paled  as  the 
heart-strokes  weakened,  and  the  cold  sweat  of  col- 
lapse appeared  in  beady  drops  upon  his  brow. 

Moore  was  at  his  side  with  a  drink,  and  we  all 
placed  him  on  the  sofa  and  watched  the  color  return 
to  the  yellow-white  face,  and  the  respirations  deepen 
again. 

Oakes  bent  solicitously  above  him.  "There  is 
something  back  of  all  this,  Skinner.  Maloney  is 
more  than  a  friend. "  Then,  as  the  old  man  rose,  the 
detective,  in  tones  gentle  but  strong,  called  Skin- 


260  Quintm  Oakes 


ner's  attention  to  the  fact  that  his  conduct  in  using 
the  influence  of  his  journal  against  Hallen  and  the 
discovery  of  the  criminal  needed  an  explanation. 

Skinner  arose,  steadied  himself,  and  turning  to 
Hallen  said,  in  a  voice  scarcely  audible:  "Chief,  I 
have  always  been  a  good  citizen  till  now.  I  wanted 
Maloney  to  get  away.  He  would  not  go.  I  thought 
he  might  be  at  the  bottom  of  the  Mansion  mysteries, 
but  I  had  no  idea  he  could  be  a  murderer.  I  did  not 
wish  his  identity  revealed;  I  tried  to  discourage 
Mr.  Oakes.  I  tried  to  save  my  reputation,  Chief — 
to  save  a  name  good  as  the  world  goes;  but  this  is 
my  punishment.  Study  my  face,  Chief — study  my 
eyes,  my  chin.  Then  imagine  a  handsome  Spanish 
face — dark-haired,  dark-skinned.  Do  you  see  why 
Maloney  has  blue  eyes  and  a  square  chin — with  hair 
black  as  the  Indian's  and  skin  swarthy  as  night? 
Gentlemen,  do  you  understand  ?  She  is  dead.  Ma- 
loney does  not  know.  I  cared  for  the  lad.  He  is 
my  son.  He  always  has  been  eccentric,  but  al- 
though perhaps  insane,  I  had  no  proof.  I  tried  to 
hide  my  secret,  but  if  Justice  demands  his  capture, 
Chief,  I.  am  at  your  disposal." 


A  Man's  Confession  261 

The  old  man  extended  his  hands,  his  lips  quivering 
with  the  words  that  spelled  ruin,  and  advanced  to 
the  Chief,  as  though  expecting  arrest,  while  we  all 
remained  motionless,  in  pitying  silence. 

Hallen  glanced  at  him.  Then  the  burly  fellow 
turned  suddenly  to  Martin:  "Here,  you  son  of  a 
dandy ! ' '  said  he,  as  we  all  smiled  and  Oakes  bit 
his  lip  in  suppressed  emotion,  "here!  you  go  on 
down  to  the  stable  and  tell  my  coachman  to  drive 
round  to  the  front  door — I  am  going  to  have  him 
drive  home  with  Mr.  Skinner."  Then  they  walked 
to  the  door,  the  old  man  half -leaning  on  the  thickset, 
muscular  shoulders  of  Hallen.  At  the  threshold  the 
Chief  turned  quickly:  "  If  any  of  you  ducks  say  any- 
thing, you're  a  lot  of  dudes,"  and  the  two  disap- 
peared down-stairs  to  the  coach. 

After  Hallen  had  returned  to  the  room,  and  as  the 
rumble  of  the  wheels  died  away  in  the  distance,  Dowd 
addressed  a  question  to  Oakes.  He  wanted  to  know 
how  Oakes  had  secured  advance  information  as  to 
the  history  of  Skinner  and  the  handkerchief. 

"  "Well,  Dowd,  as  soon  as  Skinner  began  antago- 
nizing our  moves,  I  suspected  that  he  was  the  writer 


262  Quintus  Oakes 

of  the  letter  of  warning.  Then  I  ordered  his  history 
— you  know  those  things  are  easily  obtained.  He 
came  here  years  ago  it  seems,  comparatively  un- 
known, and  worked  his  way  up,  employing  a  young 
fellow  for  many  years  in  his  office.  This  young  fel- 
low went  West,  but  returned  later.  He  was  Ma- 
loney.  He  had  not  the  mental  attainments  for  his 
employer's  business,  but  the  older  man  kept  in  touch 
with  the  younger,  even  after  he  found  it  necessary 
to  dispense  with  his  services.  "When  I  saw  Skin- 
ner, I  detected  some  resemblance  between  them — 
this  seems  to  have  escaped  general  notice,  but  Dr. 
Moore  was  not  deceived.  A  study  of  the  eyes  and 
the  ears  and  the  nose  confirmed  my  suspicions  of  the 
paternity  of  Maloney;  but  all  that,  while  interesting, 
was  not  so  valuable  as  the  knowledge  that  Maloney 
had  several  handkerchiefs  given  him  by  Skinner. 
You  see,  Skinner's  conduct  was  so  suspicious 
throughout  that  we  have  investigated  him  tho- 
roughly. "We  found  he  wore  such  handkerchiefs 
around  his  neck  in  the  printing  office.  "We  found 
Mrs.  Cook  was  aware  that  Maloney  had  some  of 
them — he  told  her  that  Mr.  Skinner  gave  them  to 


A  Man's  Confession  263 

him.  He  always  was  proud  of  Skinner's  friend- 
ship." 

"  Then  you  knew  all  about  it  this  morning,  Quin- 
tus,"  I  cried,  exasperated  at  the  man's  taciturnity; 
"you  knew  when  you  said  you  would  tell  who 
O'Brien  was,  if  I  would  tell  whether  the  l  S '  had 
anything  to  do  with  Skinner." 

"  No,  but  I  mistrusted ;  the  proofs  were  only  more 
recently  secured." 

"  Then,  as  you  now  have  the  answer  regarding  the 
'  S,'  it  seems  only  fair  that  you  tell  us  who  O'Brien 
is,"  1  cried. 

Oakes  became  very  serious.  "  I  believe  O'Brien 
was  the  man  watching  on  the  balcony  when  Dr. 
Moore  was  assaulted;  also  that  he  was  the  man  at 
the  bridge  who  warned  you,  Stone,  of  danger,  but 
who  has  kept  his  identity  hidden.  We  had  strong 
proof  that  he  was  at  the  hut  watching,  as  were  we; 
he  accidentally  left  a  part  of  his  shirt  with  my  man, 
remember.  I  also  believe  that  he  was  wounded  and 
is  in  hiding — wounded  by  Maloney,  on  the  High- 
way, when  he  was  about  to  close  in  upon  him. 

"What  do  you  mean?"  cried  Moore.     "What 


264  Quintus  Oakes 


curious  conduct  for  a  man — to  keep  in  hiding!  " 

"  No,  not  at  all,"  answered  Oakes  sharply.  "  Re- 
member how  you  saw  him  on  horseback  one  night, 
revolver  in  hand.  Well,  he  was  attending  to  busi- 
ness. CPBrien  is  working  on  the  Mansion  myster- 
ies. I  believe  he  only  knows  half  of  the  affair;  he 
does  not  realize  Maloney  may  be  the  murderer  of 
Mark — his  conduct  is  in  accord  with  that  of  a  brave 
detective  working  single-handed  and  desiring  to 
keep  his  identity  secret." 

"A  detective!" 

"  Yes,  I  fancy  so,"  answered  Oakes,  with  a  smile 
on  his  face.  "Why  not?  We  are  not  the  only 
bees  around  the  honeysuckle." 

"By  George!  I  never  thought  of  that,"  ex- 
claimed Moore. 

' '  Indeed ! ' '  retorted  Oakes  in  dulcet  tones.  ' l  Why 
should  you?  You  have  not  played  this  game  before 
— it  is  new  to  you." 

"And  does  Hallen  know,  does  he  mistrust  that 
O'Brien  is  a  detective?" 

Oakes  laughed.  "  Boys,  you're  slow.  Of  course 
he  does.  He  has  even  found  out  there  is-  a  well- 


A  Man's  Confession  265 

known  detective  by  the  name  of  Larkin  "who  is  fond 
of  the  alias  O'Brien.  This  Larkin  has  a  scar  under 
his  hair  in  front.  We  will  perhaps  be  able  to  iden- 
tify O'Brien  soon." 

44  What  made  you  first  mistrust?"  I  asked. 

"  Why,  remember  how  curiously  O'Brien  acted 
when  we  hunted  the  robe — how  indifferent  he  was 
— how  he  used  dialect!  " 

"Yes,  but  why— how  ?  " 

"Well,"  interrupted  Oakes,  "that  dialect  was 
poor  —  unnatural,  consequently  perhaps  assumed. 
That  was  the  first  clue  to  explain  the  curious  actions 
of  Maloney's  loving  friend,  who  has  stuck  to  him 
like  molasses  to  a  fly's  leg." 

"  Let  us  go  into  town  and  have  dinner  at  the  ho- 
tel," I  cried,  disgusted  at  my  lack  of  perspicacity. 
My  invitation  was  accepted  with  the  usual  alacrity 
of  hungry  men,  and  we  soon  were  striding  along — 
Hallen,  Oakes  and  Moore  in  front  and  Dowd,  Elliott 
and  myself  behind.  We  walked  close  together,  dis- 
cussing the  events  and  joking  at  one  another  in 
great  good-natured  animal  spirits,  for  things  were 


266  Quintus  Oakes 

coming  to  a  head  now  and  Broadway  was  not  so  far 
off  after  all. 

As  the  darkness  closed  in  upon  us,  relieved  only 
by  the  faint  glimmering  of  the  rising  moon,  we  were 
in  a  compact  body — an  excellent  target.  Strong  in 
the  presence  of  each  other,  we  had  for  a  moment  for- 
gotten that  we  were  in  the  land  where  a  brain  dis- 
ordered was  at  liberty.  We,  the  criminal  hunters, 
were  but  human — and  this  was  our  error. 


CHAPTER  XXI 

The  Attack 

We  had  advanced  along  River  Road  to  its  junction 
with  the  Highway,  and  Martin  had  just  closed  in 
from  behind  as  Dr.  Moore  started  to  say  something 
about  the  dinner  that  was  coming,  when,  just  as  we 
came  into  the  shadows  of  the  great  trees  to  our  left, 
a  flame,  instantaneous,  reddish-blue,  streaked  forth 
from  the  side  of  the  road  and  a  deep,  muffled,  crash- 
ing sound  came  to  our  ears.  Everyone  recognized  it 
instantly — it  was  not  the  high  crack  of  a  modern 
weapon  such  as  we  carried,  but  the  unmistakable  gut- 
tural of  an  old-style  heavy  revolver. 

An  instant,  and  the  voice  of  Oakes  rang  out,  cool, 
but  intensely  earnest,  "To  cover" — and  we  cov- 
ered. Never  before  had  six  men  melted  from  a  close 
formation  so  rapidly,  so  silently,  so  earnestly. 

Dr.  Moore,  Elliott  and  I  reached  the  trees  on  the 
other  side  together,  and  lost  our  identity  trying  to 
find  a  place  for  our  hunted  bodies.  "We  lay  down  in 


268  Quintus  Oakcs 

a  heap  behind  a  burned  tree-stump,  and  said  "  damn  ' ' 
together. 

Somewhere  around  was  the  fiend  of  Mona,  and 
somewhere  were  Oakes,  Hallen  and  Dowd,  but  not 
with  us — we  could  swear  to  this,  for  we  were  in  a 
class  by  ourselves  and  we  knew  one  another  even  in 
the  darkness. 

We  heard  a  sudden  scuffle  in  the  road,  and  saw  a 
giant  figure  rush  by  us,  throwing  a  silhouette  on  the 
roadway.  It  turned,  faced  about  and  crouched  as 
another  figure  darted  from  the  woods  across  the 
road.  Then  the  figure  crouching  made  a  spring, 
and  the  two  swayed  to  and  fro  before  us  like  great 
phantoms,  and  then  the  figures  separated,  and  one 
started  down  the  Highway  followed  by  the  other  at 
breakneck  speed.  Then  we  heard  the  voice  of  Oakes 
from  somewhere: 

"Halt!  or  I'll  shoot." 

The  fugitives  stopped,  ducked,  dashed  toward  us 
and  by  us,  into  the  woods,  and  after  them  came  the 
report  of  Oakes's  revolver — we  knew  it  by  the  quick, 
high-pitched  note — and  then — Oakes  himself.  1 1  was 
evident  to  us  he  had  fired  in  the  air,  for  we  all  saw 


The  Attack  269 


the  small  flame  point  heavenward  as  his  weapon  was 
discharged. 

Neither  fugitive  slackened  his  speed,  but  both 
rushed  across  the  plains  east  by  northeast  into  the 
face  of  the  moon  as  it  rose  off  the  plateau  of  Mona. 

" "What  is  who?  "  gasped  Moore. 

"  The  which  ?  "  I  answered,  as  a  polar  chill  chased 
up  my  spine. 

"  Oh,  the  d 1!  "  soliloquized  Elliott. 

"  See,  the  second  man  limps — he  must  be  O'Brien; 
he  is  chasing  the  first  one,"  whispered  the  doctor  as 
we  gazed  into  the  night. 

"And  Oakes  is  cavorting  after  the  bunch — I  play 
him  straight  and  place,"  spoke  Elliott;  "  he  is  gain- 
ing." 

"We  watched  Oakes,  fleeter  than  ever,  steadier,  dis- 
appear in  the  distance  as  the  moon  entered  a  passing 
cloud-bank  and  all  became  lonesome  and  dark. 

"Let's  get  on  the  plain,"  said  Elliott,  and  we 
crawled  as  best  we  could  out  of  the  woods  toward  the 
place  where  the  three  were  last  seen  by  us. 

"  Let's  be  in  at  the  finish,"  I  cried,  and  we  started 
in  the  dim  steely  haze  of  the  obscured  moon  to  follow 


270  Quintus  Oakes 

the  chase.  Darkness  impenetrable  came  on,  and 
suddenly  a  wild  moan  of  anguish  reached  us — an  aw- 
ful, convulsive  cry  of  terror.  It  neared  us  and  was 
in  our  very  neighborhood — in  our  midst — and  again 
away;  and  with  it  came  the  rush  of  feet,  heavy  and 
tired,  and  soon  the  light  tread  of  the  pursuer — the 
athletic,  soft  tread  of  Oakes.  I  shall  never  forget 
that  cry  of  terror.  It  was  as  though  the  soul  had  left 
the  body  in  anguish — it  was  a  cry  of  fear  greater 
than  man  seemed  capable  of  uttering. 

From  out  of  the  darkness  came  the  voice  of  Moore: 
"  A  maniac  in  terror!  "  Then  the  heavy  tread  was 
upon  us  again,  a  body  darted  past  me,  and  the  heavy 
revolver  spoke  again.  I  felt  a  stinging  sensation  in 
my  arm,  a  numbness,  a  feeling  of  dread  and  of  fear; 
then  I  reeled  and  recovered,  and  looking  around  me 
saw  the  figure  dashing  away  like  mad.  The  moon 
was  uncovering  again,  and  the  fighting  instinct  of 
the  brute  was  aroused  within  me.  I  knew  I  was 
wounded,  but  it  was  a  trivial  matter.  I  felt  the  surg- 
ing of  blood  to  my  brain,  the  pumping  of  my  heart, 
the  warmth  and  glow  of  the  body  that  comes  when 


The  Attack  271 


one  rallies  from  fear  or  surprise,  and  the  next  instant 
I  was  off  in  pursuit. 

Always  a  good  runner,  I  seemed  endowed  with 
the  speed  of  the  wind;  slowly  I  gained.  The  man 
before  me  ran  rapidly  but  heavily;  he  was  tired.  He 
glanced  around  and  moved  his  arms,  and  I  realized 
that  he  was  unarmed.  His  weapon  had  fallen.  I 
shut  my  mouth  and  saved  my  breath,  and  loosened 
joints  which  had  not  been  oiled  since  the  days  of  long 
ago,  when  I  played  on  my  college  foot-ball  team. 
Slowly  I  closed  in — the  capture  was  to  be  mine — 
the  honor  for  Stone,  yours  truly — lawyer.  I  un- 
reefed  some  more,  and  the  ground  went  by  under  me 
like  mad.  I  was  dizzy  with  elation  and  courage  and 
bull-hearted  strength,  and  then,  just  as  I  came  within 
talking  distance  of  the  fleeing  terror,  there  was  a  re- 
port and  my  right  leg  dragged,  my  stride  weakened 
and  tied  itself  into  bowknots,  and  I  dropped  my  re- 
volver. I  realized  I  was  done  for.  We  all  know  the 
symptoms — the  starboard  front  pulley  of  my  new 
Broadway  suspenders  had  "busted." 

The  next  instant  the  "  terror  "  had  turned  and  was 
upon  me.  I  felt  a  crashing  fist  in  my  face  and  an- 


272  Quintus  Oakes 


other  in  my  neck,  a  swinging  blow  on  my  jaw  and  a 
quick  upper  cut  in  my  solar  plexus ;  and  as  the  moon 
had  just  again  disappeared  behind  the  cloud,  I  sank 
to  the  plain  of  Mona  nearly  unconscious — overpow- 
ered. I  felt  hands  with  the  power  of  ten  men  seize 
my  wrists.  I  felt  them  being  tied  together  with 
handkerchiefs ;  I  felt  a  heavy  weight  on  my  stomach, 
and  realized  that  I  was  being  used  as  a  sofa.  Then 
I  started  to  call  for  help,  to  speak  and  to  struggle; 
but  the  terror  who  had  murdered  and  frightened, 
and  held  up  this  part  of  the  State,  soaked  me  again 
with  both  fists.  I  thought  of  home  and  New  York 
and  mint  juleps,  and  of  the  two  dollars  I  spent  to  rail- 
road it  up  to  Mona,  and  realized  that  it  was  cheap 
for  all  I  was  getting.  Then  I  started  in  to  die;  and 
the  fiend  struck  a  match  in  my  face,  and  I  nearly  did 
die.  For  it  was  that  quiet,  aristocratic  Elliott. 
"  You're  the  darndest  ass  I  ever  saw,"  said  he  as  he 
got  off;  "why  didn't  you  tell  who  you  were?" 

"Couldn't,"  I  muttered.  "I  was  thinking 
of " 

I  never  finished  that  remark,  for  the  next  instant 
Elliott  was  borne  down  to  the  ground  by  the  force  of 


The  Attack  273 

the  impact  of  a  great  body.  He  rolled  about  with 
the  unknown,  and  tore  and  twisted.  I  heard  the 
deafening  blows  rain  on  his  head,  and  was  powerless 
to  aid,  for  my  hands  were  tied  and  I  was  strangely 
weak — I  was  done  for. 

"You  d fiend!  I've  got  you.  You  will 

murder  Stone  along  with  the  others,  will  you? 
You  terror,  you." 

I  recognized  the  voice  as  I  heard  the  handcuffs  click 
on  Elliott,  and  realized  it  all. 

It  was  too  much.  "Hallen!"  I  murmured. 
"Thank  God!  Soak  him  again,"  and  I  heard  the 
blows  descend  on  Elliott's  anatomy.  Then  I  re- 
lented. 

"  Spare  him,  Chief— it's  Mr.  Elliott." 

Hallen  roared  in  surprise.  "  Then  the  murderer 
has  gotten  away,  with  Oakes  after  him.  I  beg 
pardon — I — I — ha,  ha!  "  and  then  the  Chief  roared 
again  as  he  undid  us  and  called  for  the  others. 

Lanterns  were  now  brought  from  the  Mansion, 
and  a  crowd  of  Oakes's  men  collected  around  us.  I 
noticed  that  Moore  and  Hallen  were  looking  at  me 
18 


274  Quintus  Oakes 


curiously ;  and  then  Oakes  stepped  to  my  side  from 
somewhere  out  in  the  darkness. 

"You're  sick,  old  fellow!  "  he  said  softly. 

"Sick!"  and  then  I  realized  that  things  were 
strangely  distant,  that  faces  seemed  far,  far  away, 
and  that  Moore's  voice  was  miles  off  as  he  rushed  to 
my  side. 

"Wounded!    Look  at  his  arm,"  he  cried. 

"Yes,"  I  murmured;  "it  was  that  last  shot — I 
forgot  it." 

I  tried  to  raise  the  arm  and  saw  that  a  red-blue 
stream  was  running  down  and  dripping  from  my 
hand  upon  the  ground. 

I  stepped  forward  to  point  to  Hallen,  and  to  tell 
about  how  he  slugged  Elliott;  but  as  1  moved  I 
lurched  forward,  and  a  great  strong  arm  closed  about 
me  and  a  tender  voice  whispered  —  miles  —  miles 
away.  It  was  Oakes's  voice. 

"  Here,  Hallen,  give  us  a  hand,"  and  I  felt  myself 
lifted  tenderly  and  carried  across  the  plateau.  I 
was  dimly  conscious  that  Moore  was  working  si- 
lently, rapidly,  at  my  side,  and  that  the  strong,  sup- 
ple arm  of  Oakes  was  about  me,  and  that  Hallen  was 


The  Attack  275 


helping.  A  great  wave  of  affection  came  over  me 
for  these  tender,  dear  fellows — and  I  talked  long  and 
loud  as  Elliott  wiped  my  face ;  and  I  told  Moore  that 
Elliott  was  a  past  master  at  slugging — and  all  the 
time  the  crowd  grew.  I  heard  the  name  of  Mr. 
Clark  shouted,  and  then  my  own ;  and  then,  as  they 
bore  me  in  at  the  Mansion  gate,  I  passed  away  off 
into  the  distance  and  went  into  a  deep,  dark  tunnel 
where  all  was  quiet  and  still.  And  then  I  again  heard 
Moore's  voice  saying:  "  He  has  fainted,  Oakes.  Get 
him  to  bed,  or  he  will  faint  again." 

There  was  such  gentle  tenderness  in  the  faces 
around  me,  such  gentle,  strong  words,  and  such  gen- 
tle, strong  lifting  of  my  body,  that  I  sighed  at  the 
deliciousness  of  it  all — the  splendor,  the  beauty  of 
my  journey — and  all  for  two  dollars'  railroad  fare. 

I  hoard  some  curious  statements  about  great  brav- 
ery in  dashing  after  the  unknown,  and  all  that  sort 
of  thing — and  I  knew  enough  to  realize  that  the 
crowd  had  things  twisted.  Oakes  was  speaking  to 
me  like  a  big  brother,  and  Hallen  had  somehow  quit 
all  his  bluster,  and  was  quiet  and  grave,  and  Moore 
and  Elliott  seemed  foolishly  attentive.  I  appreciated 


276  Quintus  Oakes 


their  kindness,  but  did  not  quite  understand,  and 
their  attentions  amused  me.  I  should  have  laughed 
outright,  but  things  were  becoming  confused. 

Then  I  realized  that  they  were  worried.  How  pe- 
culiar it  seemed!  The  angel  of  friendship  was  about 
me.  I  felt  a  strange  peacefulness  as  I  entered  the 
great  Mansion.  It  seemed  like  a  palace  with  golden 
walls,  and  the  familiar  voices  of  welcome  warmed 
me. 

Then  I  heard  a  deep,  thumping,  rhythmic  tremor 
as  it  was  borne  through  the  air,  and  I  knew  that  the 
boat  on  the  river  was  passing  the  Mansion.  I 
laughed  long  and  loud  at  the  peculiar  words  it  was 
saying.  I  talked  to  it,  commanded  it  to  breathe  more 
quietly,  or  it  would  disturb  those  asleep  on  the  shore. 
Then  I  tried  to  explain  to  the  judge  that  I  was  not  a 
brave  man — that  it  was  all  a  mistake;  that  I  had 
chased  Elliott  instead  of  the  murderer ;  that  the  jury 
had  failed  to  understand — and  I  laughed  again. 

My  merriment  grew  as  I  caught  sight  of  Oakes's 
face;  it  was  so  nonsensical  of  him  not  to  have  per- 
ceived that  the  steamer  was  at  the  bottom  of  the 
whole  mystery.  I  tried  to  explain,  then  I  shouted 


The  Attack  277 

at  their  stupidity,  and  finally  laughed  angrily  and  in 
despair.     1  was  in  the  grip  of  delirium. 

During  the  night  they  searched  for  the  bullet,  and 
found  it — and  some  time  next  day  I  awoke  in  my 
right  mind. 


CHAPTER     XXII 

"  The  Insane  Root" 

During  the  next  few  days  Elliott  called  frequently 
and  apologetically.  Although  he  had  suffered  con- 
siderably at  the  hands  of  Hallen,  he  appreciated  how 
much  attention  he  had  given  me  on  the  plains  of 
Mona  where  was  my  Waterloo,  and  he  kept  me  in- 
formed of  the  doings  of  our  party  in  the  search  for 
the  murderer.  But  it  was  several  days  before  he 
brought  me  the  information  that  both  O'Brien  and 
Maloney  had  been  found — O'Brien  in  a  farm-house, 
nursing  his  leg;  Maloney  walking  about  town,  cool 
and  collected,  apparently  with  nothing  to  conceal. 
I  was  told  that  he  was  not  yet  under  arrest,  but  had 
been  coaxed  back  to  the  Mansion  to  give  evidence 
against  O'Brien,  as  he  was  led  to  believe. 

"But  why  doesn't  he  suspect?  He  must  realize 
that  suspicion  is  against  him." 

"  Well,  Dr.  Moore  told  me  recently  that  the  crim- 
inal, if  insane  as  we  surmise,  may  be  oblivious  during 


"  The  Insane  Roof  279 

his  lucid  intervals  of  what  he  has  been  through 
during  his  periods  of  aberration." 

"  I  see,"  I  answered,  remembering  that  such  had 
been  often  recorded;  "and  as  his  attacks  of  mania 
may  be  unwitnessed,  he  escapes  detection  because 
he  carries  but  little  ordinary  evidence  of  these  during 
the  interval  of  quiescence." 

Before  my  companion  could  frame  an  answer 
there  was  a  sudden  commotion  below — a  hurrying 
of  feet,  and  the  quiet,  commanding  voice  of  Oakes 
heard  now  and  then  above  all.  We  knew  the  time 
had  at  last  arrived  for  the  closing  scene;  we  both 
felt  that  the  hour  had  come  when  the  final  settlement 
was  to  take  place. 

Next  moment  Oakes  appeared.  I  had  not  seen 
him  for  many  hours.  He  was  changed,  haggard, 
worn.  His  handsome  face  showed  worry  and  loss 
of  sleep,  but  his  carriage  and  voice  were  as  usual — 
vigorous,  independent. 

Grasping  my  hand  firmly  and  turning  a  pleased 
glance  of  recognition  at  Elliott,  he  said,  "Come, 
Stone,  you're  strong  enough";  and  next  moment 
he  had  thrown  a  coat  over  my  shoulders  and  was 


280  Quintus  Oakes 

helping  me  down  the  stairs  to  the  dining-room.  He 
seemed  to  me  to  have  grown  more  serious,  more 
quiet  than  was  his  wont;  but  his  actions  were,  as 
ever,  strong,  quick,  easy  of  execution,  and  I  knew 
that  it  was  the  steadying  of  the  mind  and  body  for 
the  final  strain.  Oakes 's  reputation  was  at  stake, 
and  he  was  fully  cognizant  that  an  error  of  judgment, 
a  flaw  in  his  reasonings,  a  mishap  in  the  execution  of 
his  well-formulated  plans,  might  readily  result  dis- 
astrously, not  only  to  his  reputation  but  to  the  cause 
of  justice. 

Then  I  stepped  across  the  threshold  of  the  dining- 
room,  and  beheld  a  scene  that  will  always  linger  in 
my  mind.  At  the  head  of  the  table  sat  Hallen,  and 
to  his  right  was  Dr.  Moore,  whose  dress  contrasted 
strangely  with  the  Chief's  blue  uniform  and  brass 
buttons.  Across  the  table  from  Moore  was  Dowd, 
and  here  and  there  about  the  room  were  some  of 
Oakes's  men,  and  some  of  Hallen's  as  well,  lounging, 
looking  out  of  the  windows  carelessly,  but  compre- 
hensively. 

As  we  entered,  a  deep  guttural  of  welcome  greeted 
me;  and  Oakes  seated  me  by  Moore's  side,  and  El- 


"  The  Insane  Root"  281 

hott  went  over  and  sat  with  Dowd.  Then  the  de- 
tective took  the  chair  at  the  foot  of  the  table,  near 
which  was  an  empty  one. 

It  was  evident  at  a  glance  that  Oakes  was  to  be 
the  chief  actor,  while  to  Hallen  had  been  given  the 
chief  position. 

There  was  a  moment's  silence,  then  Hallen  turned 
to  Dr.  Moore:  "Are  you  positive,"  he  said,  "that 
Maloney  is  insane?  I  see  no  evidence." 

' '  I  am  not  positive  as  yet, ' '  was  the  reply.  * '  Some 
signs  indicate  that  he  may  be  in  the  so-called  interval 
between  outbreaks  of  mental  disease;  but  he  is 
clever,  as  are  almost  all  the  insane,  and  he  covers  his 
condition  well.  Still,  we  can,  and  will  put  him  to 
the  test;  we  will  soon  determine  if  we  are  dealing 
with  the  'insane  root  that  takes  the  reason  pris- 
oner.'" 

"  But  how  can  it  be  ?  He  is  not  violent.  I  do  not 
comprehend." 

Moore  glanced  at  the  Chief.  "  Let  Mr.  Oakes  ex- 
plain— I  should  be  too  technical,  I  fear;  he  has  an 
easier  flow  of  words." 

Hallen   looked   surprised.      "  Well,   how   is  it, 


282  Quintus  Oakes 

Oakes?  How  can  you  suspect  such  a  man?  No- 
body ever  saw  him  violent.  What  reason  have 
you?" 

Then  Oakes  turned.  He  was  somewhat  nettled,  I 
thought,  at  Hallen's  manner,  but  his  voice  did  not 
betray  him.  His  words  came  clearly,  even  curtly; 
but  as  he  revealed  his  comprehensive  knowledge  of 
the  matter  in  plain,  every-day  language,  Hallen's 
manner  changed  wonderfully.  Never  before  had  he 
had  such  an  opportunity  to  see  the  education  of  the 
man  before  him.  Now  it  came  as  an  overwhelming 
surprise. 

"  A  lunatic  does  not  necessarily  rave  or  carry  the 
ordinary  signs  of  rending  passion, ' '  began  Oakes  as  he 
turned  a  quiet  face  of  acknowledgment  toward  Dr. 
Moore.  "  The  one  who  hears  voices,  real  to  him, 
but  really  arising  in  the  diseased  mechanism  of  his 
own  brain — ordering  him  to  be  a  martyr,  a  saviour 
of  his  country,  or  to  spend  the  millions  he  imagines 
he  possesses,  is  usually  melancholy,  reserved,  cau- 
tious, ever  on  the  watch,  deceptive,  but  doubtful 
sometimes  as  to  his  own  brain -workings. 

"Likewise,  the  man  who  possesses  the  homicidal 


"  The  Insane  Root"  283 

mania  may  be  cautious  and  quiet — to  the  ordinary 
observer  a  normal  citizen.  But  the  aura  of  insanity 
is  around  him ;  he  lives  and  moves  and  deceives,  and 
hides  from  the  outside  world  the  words  that  come  to 
him  day  or  night — the  words  that  arise  not  in  the 
voice  of  a  living  man,  but  in  his  own  diseased  mind. 
The  sufferer  says  nothing  of  the  voices  that  tell  him 
he  is  persecuted — that  the  world's  hands  are  against 
him.  By  accident,  in  a  moment  of  unwariness,  he 
may  reveal  that  he  hears  such  voices;  but  it  is  an 
even  chance  that  he  will  be  laughed  at  and  the  warn- 
ing fall  on  ears  that  fail  to  understand.  He  is  con- 
sidered a  '  crank. ' 

"  Then  the  unfortunate  shrinks  more  into  himself, 
becomes  absolutely  dominated  by  the  ideas  and  com- 
mands generated  in  his  own  false  mind.  He  may 
become  violent  by  degrees,  may  scare  and  haunt  the 
places  where  he  believes  himself  abused ;  and  all  the 
while  the  voices  tell  him  he  is  foolish,  being  put 
upon,  and  finally  he  becomes  controlled  by  the  delu- 
sion that  he  is  being  persecuted.  Then  perhaps  sud- 
denly comes  the  incentive,  usually  a  command  of 
false  origin  within  his  own  brain,  that  makes  the 


284  Quintus  Oakes 


worm  turn  that  reveals  to  the  world  that  he  is  a 
maniac — a  'killer.'  He  hears  the  word  'kill,'  and 
his  mind,  no  longer  even  suspicious  of  its  own  disease 
at  it  was  at  first,  becomes  frenzied.  He  sometimes 
attacks  openly,  but  usually  does  so  secretively,  with 
the  cunning  of  the  tiger,  and  kills  and  slaughters. 
•  Then  he  returns  to  his  dreams  —  quiet,  satisfied, 
spent." 

Oakes  paused.  "You  understand,  Hallen,"  he 
said,  "  I  am  no  expert;  but  such  cases  have  come  to 
my  notice — it  is  not  easy  for  me  to  explain  more 
fully." 

"Go  on,"  was  Hallen's  answer;  "go  on,  sir.  I 
am  deeply  interested — it  amazes  me. ' ' 

The  Chief  showed  his  words  were  those  of  genuine 
interest  and  surprise. 

"The  insane  man  leads  a  dual  life,"  continued 
Oakes,  "perhaps  for  a  long  time.  Such  a  man  is 
not  yet  an  inmate  of  an  asylum.  His  case  is  unrecog- 
nized— he  is  a  soul  battling  with  madness  until  some 
awful  tragedy  occurs,  like  that  of  Mona,  to  reveal 
his  greatest  of  all  misfortunes — the  loss  of  reason." 

"We  were  all  silent  when  Oakes  finished  speaking. 


The  Insane  Root ' '  285 


Not  a  man  there  but  now  recognized  and  realized 
more  fully  what  we  had  been  fighting  against.  Then 
Hallen  rose  and  looked  at  Oakes,  then  at  all  of  us. 

"Boys,"  he  said,  "according  to  custom,  being 
Chief  of  Police  of  Mona,  I  am  to  make  the  arrest. 
That  I  will  do,  but  let  me  tell  you  right  here  it  is 
Mr.  Oakes  who  will  point  out  the  culprit.  I  have 
been  unable  to  get  a  clue,  and  I  am  damned  if  I'll 
take  credit  from  a  man  like  that."  As  he  spoke  he 
thumped  the  table  with  his  hamlike  fist.  Hallen 
was  not  a  clever  man.  He  was  about  the  average, 
perhaps  a  little  above;  but  he  was  an  honest  as  the 
day  was  long — a  staunch,  vigorous  man — and  we  all 
admired  him. 

' '  Sit  down, ' '  commanded  Oakes  harshly.  ' '  Don't 
give  us  any  more  such  nonsense,"  and  the  Chief  sat 
down,  while  we  all  half  smiled  at  the  discomfiture  of 
both. 

"  Now,  gentlemen,"  said  Oakes,  "let  us  keep  our 
wits  about  us.  First  let  me  identify  O'Brien,  if  pos- 
sible, and  let  us  study  Maloney  afterward.  Kemem- 
ber,  if  O'Brien  is  not  Larkin  the  detective,  my  case 
is  not  ready;  if  he  is  the  man  we  suspect,  then  we 


286  Quintus  Oakes 

must  turn  to  Maloney  regardless  of  any  presence  of 
insanity  now,  as  lie  maybe  in  the  quiescent  period, 
so  called,  and  may  succeed  in  baffling  us.  Having 
once  excluded  O'Brien  from  suspicion,  we  will  be 
justified  in  action  against  Maloney.  "We  must  prove 
Ms  knowledge  of  the  heavy  revolver,  if  possible. 
Then  if  we  succeed  in  forging  that  link  to  our  chain, 
we  will  move  quickly;  upon  his  arm  should  be  the 
cross  seen  by  the  dying  Mr.  Mark." 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

The  Test 

As  Oakes  ceased  speaking  there  came  a  silence. 
Although  we  were  many  there,  there  was  not  a  mo- 
tion for  a  space  of  seconds — not  a  sound  save  the  deep 
breathing  of  Hallen  and  of  some  of  the  others  upon 
whom  the  duty  of  the  hour  was  to  fall.  Men  trained 
for  such  scenes — always  alive  to  the  possibilities,  al- 
ways alert  for  trickery  or  treachery — are  yet  but 
human,  and  subject  to  the  tension  that  is  felt  even  by 
the  most  courageous. 

Then,  in  obedience  to  a  signal  from  Oakes,  Martin 
appeared,  escorting  O'Brien,  who  was  limping,  into 
the  room,  and  to  the  chair  facing  Oakes. 

It  soon  became  evident  to  us  that  Oakes's  real 
identity  was  unknown  to  O'Brien.  Even  if  the  lat- 
ter were  the  detective  Larkin,  he  had  failed  to  rea- 
lize that  Mr.  Clark  was  anything  but  the  agent  for 
the  property. 


288  Quintus  Oakes 


"You  are  wounded,  my  man!  They  tell  me  it 
happened  in  the  Highway  the  other  day,  and  that 
afterwards,  at  night,  you  chased  Maloney  on  the 
plains  of  Mona,  after  he  had  fired  upon  us.  Tell  us 
about  it,  O'Brien." 

Oakes's  voice  was  calm  and  strong,  but  in  it  I 
fancied  I  detected  a  note  of  pity. 

O'Brien  hesitated,  stammered.  "How  did  you 
know  when  I  was  shot  ?  "  he  exclaimed.  "  I  told  no 
one."  Oakes  smiled  slightly.  "Out  with  your 
story,  O'Brien.  Did  you  chase  Maloney  for  re- 
venge, or  for  revenge  and  business?" 

O'Brien  straightened  in  the  chair.  "  Who  is  this 
man  Clark  ?  How  peculiar  these  questions  are ! ' '  his 
look  plainly  said. 

"  Why,  for  revenge,  of  course,"  he  answered. 

"  Let's  see  your  wound,"  commanded  Oakes. 

O'Brien  bared  his  leg:  the  injury  was  now  nearly 
healed ;  but  was  still  enough  to  make  the  man  limp. 
Then,  as  he  bent  down  to  readjust  his  trousers  Oakes, 
accidentally  as  it  were,  brushed  against  his  forehead, 
throwing  back  the  hair  from  O'Brien's  brow. 

We  all  saw  a  long,  white,  glistening  scar,  now  ex- 


The  Test  289 

posed  to  full  view  at  the  line  of  the  heavy  hair.     The 
man  before  us  was  Larkin  the  detective. 

Oakes  with  marvelous  tranquillity  apologized  for 
the  "accident,"  and  said:  "Why  should  Maloney 
have  shot  you?  what  is  behind  it  all?  Speak." 

"  I  do  not  know."  It  was  evident  to  us  all  that 
O'Brien  was  avoiding  the  issue. 

"I  see,"  exclaimed  Oakes.  "As  O'Brien  you 
know  nothing;  as  Mr.  Larkin  the  detective  you 
know  more  than  it  suits  you  to  tell." 

O'Brien  was  on  his  feet  in  an  instant.  "  Who 
dares  insinuate — who  dares  say  I  am  a  detective, 
sir?" 

"Nonsense!  Keep  cool.  The  Chief  here  has 
satisfied  himself.  Tell  us — why  should  Maloney 
hate  you?" 

O'Brien  glanced  around  and  fixed  his  gaze  on  Hal- 
len.  "I  am  Larkin.  He  hates  me  because  I  have 
been  watching  him.  Maloney  is  the  man  responsible 
for  the  Mansion  mysteries,  I  think,"  he  said. 

' { Indeed !     What  else  ? ' '  queried  Hallen  suddenly. 

"  I  believe  he  may  be  the  murderer  of  Mr.  Mark. " 
19 


290  Quintus  Oakes 

"What  proofs  have  you?"  asked  Oakes,  as  we 
all  leaned  forward  intently. 

"No  proof  as  yet." 

"Exactly I  But,  Mr.  Larkin,  you  deserve  much 
credit,"  said  Oakes,  as  he  led  O'Brien  to  a  chair  by 
Hallen's  side.  "Sit  here,"  he  continued.  "I  am 
going  to  have  Maloney  brought  in  now.  He  has 
always  been  a  good  gardener — a  decent  sort  of  fel- 
low. I  must  hear  his  story  before  I  give  him  up  to 
the  Chief.  It  has  been  suggested  that  Maloney  may 
be  mentally  unbalanced;  you  will  excuse  me,  Mr. 
Xarkin,  if  I  use  you  as  a  foil  to  draw  him  out  while 
Dr.  Moore  assists  me." 

Then,  by  way  of  explanation,  Oakes,  whose  iden- 
tity was  still  unknown  to  Larkin,  went  on: 

"  You  see,  Chief  Hallen  wishes  to  be  sure  of  some 
little  points,  and  so  do  I.  Perhaps  Maloney  will  not 
resent  my  questioning;  he  should  have  no  feelings 
against  the  agent  of  this  property,  whereas  he  might 
object  to  Hallen  as  an  interlocutor." 

Oakes  was  now  a  trifle  pale,  I  thought.  There 
were  furrows  on  his  forehead ;  his  manner  was  suave 
and  deliberately  slow.  But  little  did  I  dream  the 


The  Test  291 

true  depth  of  the  man,  the  masterly  manner  in 
which  he  was  about  to  test  the  mental  balance  of 
Maloney. 

To  one  who  was  ignorant  of  the  terrible  events 
this  story  tells  of,  and  the  dire  necessity  of  discov- 
ering once  for  all  who  was  responsible  for  them,  the 
efforts  of  these  keen,  scientific  men  to  entrap  a  weak- 
ened brain  would  have  seemed  unfair  and  cruel. 

But  for  those  who  knew  the  story  and  knew  of  the 
murderous  deeds  done  in  Mona  by  some  unfortunate 
with  a  cunning,  diabolic,  although  probably  unbal- 
anced mind,  there  remained  only  one  alternative — 
to  uncover  and  catch  the  criminal  at  all  hazards. 

Martin  left  the  room,  and  returned  escorting  the 
suspect,  who  was  dressed  in  his  working  clothes,  his 
coat  covering  a  gray  jersey.  His  face  was  stolid, 
but  not  unprepossessing;  his  bearing,  quiet  and  re- 
served. His  blue  eyes  shifted  quickly.  Then,  as 
Oakes  stood  facing  him,  he  respectfully  saluted  "  Mr. 
Clark." 

The  detective  met  him  cheerily. 

"  Good -morning,  Maloney;  I  have  asked  you  as  a 
favor  to  come  here  and  identify  the  man  who  shot  at 


292  Quintus  Oakes 

you  the  other  day;  O'Brien  has  reached  the  end  of 
his  rope  now." 

As  Oakes  finished  his  sentence,  Maloney's  face 
changed  hue,  but  he  faced  O'Brien,  hesitatingly, 
as  though  somewhat  at  a  loss.  "  There's  the  man! 
Yes,  he  shot  me,"  he  cried. 

Then  again  Oakes  began  to  speak,  and  we  all  knew 
that  he  was  purposely  deceiving  Maloney,  playing 
with  him — waiting  for  the  moment  when  he  would 
make  the  slip;  when,  if  of  diseased  mind,  he  would 
fail  to  differentiate  facts  from  fiction,  when  the  false 
paths  suggested  to  him  would  hopelessly  entangle 
him. 

"  The  other  night,  Maloney,  someone  fired  upon 
us  on  the  road.  We  have  well-nigh  proved  O'Brien 
is  the  guilty  one.  You  chased  him  across  the  plain. 
We  owe  our  thanks  to  you,  one  and  all  of  us.  Had 
you  not  been  so  close  behind  him,  he  would  have 
killed  Mr.  Stone  here." 

Oakes  motioned  toward  me  as  he  spoke.  I  saw  it 
all.  He  was  twisting  the  facts,  drawing  Maloney 
into  a  false  idea  that  he  was  unsuspected — that  he 
was  a  hero. 


The  Test  293 

"Yes,"  I  cried,  seeing  the  point  instantly.  "I 
owe  my  life  to  you,  old  man.  I  thank  you." 

A  sudden  flash  of  remembrance  seemed  to  cross 
the  suspect's  face.  Then  his  brow  darkened.  There 
was  some  error  here — he  was  no  hero.  But  what 
was  it?  Somehow  things  were  wrong,  but  where? 

Dim  recollection  came  to  him,  then  a  calmness 
curious  to  witness;  but  his  eyes  were  shifting 
quickly,  and  the  fingers  of  one  hand  were  moving 
silently  over  one  another,  as  though  rolling  a  crumb 
of  bread.  The  man  was  suspicious  of  something, 
but  clever  enough  to  be  apparently  calm,  although 
not  yet  able  to  understand  the  flaw  in  the  presenta- 
tion of  facts. 

Then  with  a  supreme  effort  he  seemed  to  rally  to 
the  occasion,  and  cleverly  evaded  the  issue.  "I 
only  did  a  little  thing,"  he  said,  "you  need  not 
thank  me." 

The  voice  was  uncertain;  the  tone  pathetic,  grop- 
ing. Oakes  had  befuddled  the  poor  intellect.  Ma- 
loney  was  at  sea  and  sinking. 

"  Maloney,"  said  Oakes  again — there  was  gentle- 
ness in  the  detective's  voice;  he  knew  the  man  be- 


294  Quintus  Oakes 

fore  him  was  going  down — "Maloney,  when  we 
were  fired  upon  you  were  watching  the  would-be 
murderer — this  man  O'Brien.  You  acted  with  the 
promptitude  of  lightning  —  O'Brien  dropped  the 
weapon  he  had  with  him.  Did  you  see  where  it  fell  ? 
It  was  a  great  army  revolver,  a  45-calibre  weapon." 

Maloney  started  and  straightened  up;  there,  at 
least,  was  a  familiar  subject.  He  remembered  that, 
even  though  his  mind  failed  to  remember  the  details 
of  the  assault. 

But  Maloney  knew  there  was  some  mistake;  it 
was  bis  weapon,  not  O'Brien's,  that  they  were  talk- 
ing about.  Suddenly,  like  a  flash,  came  full  remem- 
brance— momentarily,  only — and  he  unguardedly 
blurted  out:  "There  is  only  one  in  the  county  like 
it";  then  cunningly  ceased  speaking  as  though  he 
feared  his  tongue,  but  could  not  exactly  reason  why. 

There  was  a  scarcely  audible  sigh  of  anxiety  around 
the  room — Oakes  had  proved  Maloney 's  knowledge 
of  the  old  revolver.  Dr.  Moore  was  gazing  intently 
at  the  gardener's  neck.  The  carotid  arteries  were 
pumping  full  and  strong,  down  deep  beneath  the 
tissues,  moving  the  ridges  of  his  neck  in  rhythmic 


The  Test  295 

but  very  rapid  undulations — the  man  was  showing 
great  excitement. 

"Maloney,"  said  Oakes  again,  quickly  returning 
to  the  attack,  "before  we  were  fired  upon  we  fan- 
cied we  heard  a  cry  over  the  plain,  a  curious  one  like 
someone  yelling  an  oath  or  an  imperious  command. 
Did  you  hear  it?" 

"Yes,"  interpolated  Moore.  "We  thought  the 
words  were  '  Fire! '  or  « Kill!  kill! '" 

We  all  realized  what  the  clever  men  were  doing — 
telling  imaginary  things,  trying  to  draw  from  Ma- 
loney an  acknowledgment  of  a  delusion.  They 
were  sounding  his  mind,  playing  for  its  weak  spot. 

The  suspect  looked  surprised,  bewildered,  then 
suddenly  fell  into  the  trap.  His  weakened  mind 
had  been  reached  at  its  point  of  least  resistance. 

As  in  nearly  all  insane  individuals,  it  took  but  a 
proper  mention  of  the  predominant  delusion  to  reveal 
that  which  might  otherwise  have  gone  undetected 
for  a  long  period. 

"  Yes,"  whispered  Maloney.  "  I  heard  the  com- 
mand. It  was  *  Kill! '  '  Murder! '  I  have  heard  it 
before.  I  am  glad  you  heard  it  then — that  proves 


296  Quintus  Oakes 

that  I  am  right.  I  knew  I  was  right.  I  can  prove 
it.  Surely  it  is  not  uncommon.  Gentlemen,  I  have 
heard  it  before.  I  know — I  believe — it  was  meant 
for — ha!  ha! — O'Brien — ha!  ha! — no!  no! — forme!11 

Moore  stepped  toward  the  man,  whose  speech  now 
came  thick  and  fast  and  unintelligible.  Hallen  closed 
nearer.  Maloney  was  shaking.  His  face  was  turn- 
ing dark,  his  jugulars  were  bulging  like  whip-cords 
down  his  neck,  his  eyes  sparkling  with  the  unmistak- 
able light  of  insanity.  He  stooped.  "There  it  is 
again!  '  Kill!  kill! '  "  he  cried  in  thick,  mumbling 
tones,  and  bending  low.  Then  he  straightened  up 
suddenly  and  flung  himself  around,  felling  Hallen 
and  Martin  as  though  they  were  wooden  men. 

He  seized  a  chair  and  hurled  it  across  the  table  at 
Elliott,  who  dodged  successfully,  allowing  it  to 
crash  through  the  opposite  window.  Quick  to  see 
this  means  of  escape,  Maloney  followed  through  the 
smashed  panes — a  raving,  delirious  maniac. 

The  test,  carried  out  with  such  consummate  skill, 
had  not  only  proved  Maloney's  knowledge  of  the  re- 
volver and  that  he  was  subject  to  delusions,  but  it 


The  Test  297 

had  also  precipitated  an  unexpected  attack  of  insane 
excitement — an  acute  mania. 

And  now  Maloney  was  gone — escaped. 

As  Hallen  and  Martin  staggered  to  their  leet,  the 
Chief  bellowed  forth  an  order  in  a  voice  of  deepest 
chagrin  and  alarm:  "Catch  him!"  he  cried.  "If  he 
escapes,  the  people  will  rise  in  fury." 

We  all  heard  a  sickening,  wild  yell  of  defiance 
from  Maloney  as  he  reached  the  ground — a  deep, 
guttural,  maniac  cry  that  struck  terror  to  my  weak- 
ened nerves  and  which  froze  our  men  for  an  instant 
in  their  tracks,  like  marble  statues. 

Someone  broke  the  awful  spell — it  was  Oakes,  cry- 
ing out:  "  He  is  going  for  the  pond  and  the  bridge." 
And  next  instant  he  and  Hallen  were  out  of  the  front 
door,  the  men  following  in  a  rushing,  compact  body. 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

Across  the  Bridge 

As  I  staggered  behind  the  pursuers  I  saw  the  tall, 
erect  figure  of  Quintus  glide  rapidly  across  the  road 
and  disappear  down  the  decline.  In  the  briefest 
space  we  were  at  the  crest  by  the  road,  looking  down 
upon  the  pond.  I  saw  Moore  and  O'Brien  by  my 
side — the  latter  swearing  like  a  trooper. 

"Who  is  that  Mr.  Clark,  anyway?  How  did  he 
know  who  I  was?  Since  Hallen's  men  found  me 
at  the  farm-house  this  man  Clark — this  agent — has 
had  a  lot  to  say." 

"  He  is  a  man  by  the  name  of  Oakes,"  I  said. 

O'Brien,  or  rather  Larkin,  looked  at  me  a  moment. 

"Quintus  Oakes?" 

"The  same." 

"  The  deuce  you  say !  No  disgrace  to  me  then.  I 
understand  things  now.  But  I  should  have  sus- 
pected." 

The  murderer  reached  the  bridge  and,  hesitating, 


Across  the  Bridge  299 

stooped  suddenly  at  its  near  side.  He  had  evidently 
picked  up  something  from  under  one  of  the  logs  that 
formed  the  span.  He  straightened  up  and,  turning, 
suddenly  fired  at  Oakes,  who  was  rapidly  approach- 
ing. The  deep  tones  of  a  heavy  revolver  were  un- 
mistakable. Maloney  had  secured  his  murderous 
weapon  when  he  stooped;  he  had  had  it  in  hiding 
under  the  log.  He  was  armed  now  with  a  weapon 
of  terrible  possibilities.  In  another  instant  he  was 
across  and  mounting  the  green  sunlit  slope  beyond. 
A  hundred  feet  behind  was  Quintus,  untouched  by 
the  bullet  that  had  been  sent  his  way.  A  few  steps, 
and  he  reached  the  other  side,  but  as  he  struck  the 
ground,  the  bridge — frail  thing  that  it  was — loos- 
ened from  its  centre  support  and  went  crashing  into 
the  pond,  leaving  Hallen,  who  was  close  behind 
Oakes,  on  this  side  of  the  bridge  with  the  rest  of  us. 
Oakes  was  alone,  pursuing  the  murderer  up  the  slope 
of  the  hill  on  the  other  side  of  the  water,  facing  us. 
We  saw  him  turn,  as  the  bridge  fell,  and  look  at  us; 
then  he  made  a  sweeping  gesture  toward  the  north 
and  south,  and  turned  again  after  the  murderer, 
who  was  just  half-way  up  the  slope  now;  his  body 


300  Quintus  Oakes 

dotting  the  surface  of  the  ground  with  a  shadow  at 
his  side — a  shadow  of  himself — company  in  the  race 
for  freedom. 

We  all  simultaneously  interpreted  the  gestures 
made  by  Oakes,  and  Hallen  dashed  to  the  north  end 
of  the  pond  to  skirt  it,  while  Martin  and  Moore 
dashed  for  the  southern  end,  leaving  Elliott,  Larkin 
and  myself  standing  where  we  commanded  full  view 
of  what  was  coming.  We  were  conscious  of  several 
other  figures  dashing  by  us,  and  we  knew  that  his 
men  were  straining  every  nerve  and  muscle  to  reach 
Oakes  in  his  dangerous  position. 

It  was  a  long  run  to  skirt  either  end  of  the  pond, 
and  to  swing  around  the  opposite  shore,  and  thence 
up  the  sloping  sides  to  Quintus's  aid.  We  three  re- 
maining behind  were  anxious  beyond  expression.  I 
leaned  heavily  on  Elliott,  and  really  prevented  him 
from  joining  in  the  chase,  where  he  would  have  been 
useless;  the  others  were  so  much  fleeter  of  foot. 

"  God — that  man  Oakes  is  alone  with  the  mur- 
derer ! ' '  cried  Larkin.  ' '  He  is  too  good  a  man  to  lose 
his  life  in  the  fight  that  is  coming.  Look!  " 

We  saw  Maloney  halt  and  face  about.     Then  came 


Across  the  Bridge  301 

a  slight  flash,  followed  by  the  heavy  report  of  the 
revolver  in  his  hand. 

Quintus  was  running  slowly  up  toward  him  and 
was  perhaps  one  hundred  feet  away.  At  the  report 
he  staggered,  and  dropped  upon  the  green,  slippery 
sward. 

"He  is  wounded,"  cried  Elliott. 

I  felt  sick  at  heart  and  weak,  and  sat  down,  Larkin 
by  my  side;  we  two  were  powerless,  being  only  con- 
valescent. 

'  'An  elegant  shot !  That  Maloney  is  a  crack  one, ' ' 
cried  the  detective. 

"Yes,"  said  Elliott;  "it  was  determined  before 
that  Mark's  murderer  was  a  good  shot." 

Then  came  another  report,  and  we  saw  that  again 
the  murderer  had  fired.  Oakes  remained  quiet.  His 
body  showed  sprawled  on  the  hill-side. 

"Damnation!"  cried  Elliott.  "Is  Oakes  dead? 
He  does  not  answer  with  his  revolver." 

"No,"  cried  Larkin.  "  I  saw  him  move,  and  see 
— he  is  braced  to  prevent  himself  slipping  down  the 
hill.  He  knows  he  is  a  poor  target,  and  is  not  anx- 


302  Quintus  Oakes 

ious  to  move  lest  he  slide  into  the  pond.  That  grass 
is  frosty  and  very  slippery." 

Then  came  the  delayed  crack  of  Quintus' s  weapon, 
and  Maloney  sprang  into  the  air  as  he  ran.  He  now 
went  slowly  and  painfully,  lurching  forward  along 
the  crest  of  the  hill. 

"  Slightly  wounded,  thank  Fate — but  Oakes  could 
have  killed  him  had  he  wished, ' '  cried  Larkin. 

"We  saw  Quintus  rise  and  follow  Maloney,  then 
drop  to  his  chest  again,  as  the  latter  wheeled  and 
fired  three  shots  rapidly  at  him  in  delirious  excite- 
ment. 

Oakes  remained  quiet  and  huddled,  and  despite 
the  fact  that  Maloney  was  now  an  excellent  target, 
he  did  not  fire. 

"Oakes  is  hit  badly,"  exclaimed  Elliott.  Then 
the  speaker  did  an  unexpected  thing.  Seizing  his  re- 
volver, he  discharged  the  weapon  again  and  again 
in  the  direction  of  Maloney.  "A  long  shot,"  he 
muttered,  "but  I'll  keep  him  guessing." 

"We  could  see  the  bullets  hit  somewhere  near  the 
fugitive,  for  he  seemed  disconcerted  and  turned 
toward  the  northern  end  of  the  pond,  to  run  in  that 


Across  the  Bridge  303 

direction ;  he  was  now  outlined  on  the  crest  of  the 
hill.  We  heard  another  shot  ring  out — a  shot  sharp, 
staccato  it  was;  and  we  then  emitted  a  yell,  for  we 
knew  by  it  that  Oakes  was  alive.  Maloney  fired 
again,  and  again  Elliott,  by  our  side,  tried  two  more 
long  shots  with  his  revolver. 

We  heard  Oakes's  voice,  clear  and  firm  it  came, 
wafted  across  the  pond. 

"  Don't  shoot  again.  He  has  no  more  ammuni- 
tion. I  will  get  him." 

And  Elliott,  in  suppressed  excitement,  exclaimed: 
"  He  was  drawing  Maloney 's  fire  all  the  time.  He 
was  not  wounded." 

"  Yes,  he  knew  Maloney  had  the  old  six-shooter, 
and  he  knows  it  is  empty  now." 

"That  Oakes  keeps  everything  in  mind,"  said 
Larkin.  "  He  is  a  good  one." 

Then  we  saw  the  figures  of  the  runners  skirting 
the  northern  end  of  the  pond.  Hallen  was  leading. 
He  fired  at  Maloney,  evidently  not  having  under- 
stood Oakes's  word,  and  again  came  that  clear  voice 
across  the  pond. 


304  Quintus  Oakes 

"Don't  fire,  Hallen;  remember,  he  is  a  lunatic 
and  he  can't  get  away  now." 

We  saw  Oakes  rush  to  close  in  on  Maloney,  but 
the  latter  met  his  attack,  and  the  detective  was  borne 
to  the  ground  heavily. 

" Shoot,  Oakes,  shoot!"  I  yelled,  as  did  Hallen; 
but  Quintus  responded  not. 

"We  saw  that  the  fight  was  furious,  but  were  unable 
at  first  to  distinguish  the  figures  as  they  remained  on 
the  ground.  They  were  locked  in  one  another's  em- 
brace in  a  deadly,  awe-inspiring  struggle.  Then 
across  one  man's  neck  we  saw  a  forearm — the  cuff 
was  shining  in  the  sunlight — and  Elliott  cried  out: 
"That  is  Oakes." 

The  two  rose  to  their  feet,  powerful  black  objects, 
and  by  the  outline  we  recognized  the  tall  figure  of 
our  friend  as  they  swayed  and  surged,  gradually 
slipping  and  sliding  down  the  incline,  toward  the 
deep  waters  of  the  pond  below. 

"Oakes  has  got  him,"  cried  Larkin,  "choking 
him.  Look  at  them!" 

We  saw  the  murderer's  body  arch  sideways  and 
backward,  with  Oakes's  hands  around  his  neck. 


Across  the  Bridge  305 

As  Maloney's  body  came  down,  down  to  the 
ground  again,  Larkin  and  Elliott  by  my  side  shouted 
in  admiration  at  the  power  and  skill  displayed. 

Suddenly  like  a  flash  the  maniac  turned,  twisted, 
and  next  moment  encircled  Oakes's  body  with  both 
his  arms,  and  rolled  toward  the  water  with  him. 

"He  is  going  to  drown  Oakes — see!  " 

The  words  came  in  a  hurried  gasp  from  Elliott,  who 
was  throwing  off  his  coat  and  his  shoes  in  a  move- 
ment quick  as  the  thought  that  had  come  to  him. 

"  He's  too  good  a  man,"  he  cried,  and  with  a  sud- 
den rush  Elliott  was  at  the  water's  edge  and  into  the 
pond — swimming  with  strong  overhanded  strokes, 
head  low  and  sideways,  toward  the  opposite  shore. 

Larkin  and  I  could  scarcely  believe  our  eyes.  The 
man  was  apparently  gifted  with  great  powers,  for  he 
cut  through  the  water  steadily,  surely,  with  a  ra- 
pidity that  was  amazing.  Over  opposite,  the  fight 
was  furious,  always  nearing  the  edge  of  the  pond. 

Help  for  Oakes  was  no  nearer  than  Hallen,  who, 
we  could  see,  was  dashing  around  the  northern  end 
of  the  pond  in  a  desperate  race  to  save  him.  On  the 

other  end,  moving  like  the  wind,  but  farther  away 
20 


306  Quintus  Oakes 


from  the  fighting  men,  I  distinguished  young  Martin 
leading  several  others  in  the  race  for  life.  And 
down  beneath  us,  quarter  way  across  the  pond  was 
the  solitary  swimmer,  lifting  his  shoulders  well  out 
of  the  water  each  time  his  stroke  reached  its  limit 
— each  moment  advancing  steadily,  surely.  I  saw 
at  a  glance  that  Oakes  was  doomed — Elliott  could 
not  reach  him,  neither  could  Hallen.  Larkin  by 
my  side  supported  me,  for  my  head  was  reeling  with 
weakness.  Suddenly  he  shouted  across  the  pond — 
"  Fight  him! — fight  him!  Oakes,  strangle  him." 

I  could  see  now  that,  somehow,  Oakes's  arm  was 
around  the  maniac's  neck,  and  that  they  were  on 
their  feet  again.  Neither  had  a  weapon — they  had 
long  since  been  lost  in  the  hand-to-hand  fight. 

"  Oakes  can't  do  it.  "Why,  in  the  devil's  name, 
did  he  try  to  capture  him  alive  ?  Why  did  he  not 
shoot  to  kill  instead  of  to  wound  simply?"  cried 
my  companion. 

Now  Maloney  was  surging,  dragging  Oakes  close 
to  the  water's  edge — closer,  ever  closer. 

Suddenly  Oakes  weakened  and  half  stepped,  half 
retreated,  to  the  water's  edge;  then  as  suddenly  the 


Across  the  Bridge  307 

two  figures  swayed  up  the  hill  a  few  feet  again,  and 
with  a  quick,  cat-like  movement  Oakes  was  free.  It 
was  his  one  supreme  effort,  a  masterly,  wonderfully 
executed,  vigorous  shove  and  side-step.  It  was  evi- 
dent Maloney  was  dazed.  Oakes's  strangle-hold  had 
told  at  last. 

We  heard  a  mighty  shout  from  Hallen,  and  an- 
other from  the  swimmer  now  rapidly  approaching 
the  bank. 

Maloney  faced  Oakes  a  moment ;  his  chest  heaved 
*>nce  or  twice  as  his  breath  returned;  he  crouched, 
then  sidled  into  position  for  a  spring  and  launched 
himself  toward  Oakes,  who,  pale  as  death,  stood 
swaying,  his  arms  by  his  side,  apparently  all  but 
done  for. 

Then  we  all  witnessed  that  which  thrilled  us  to 
the  heart — the  sudden,  wonderful  mastery  of  science, 
aided  by  strength,  over  sheer  brute  force.  Maloney 
came  toward  Oakes  in  a  fearful  rush  that  was  to  take 
both  together  out  into  the  pond  to  death. 

Instantly  Oakes's  swaying  body  tightened  and 
steadied.  I  knew  then,  as  did  Larkin,  that  Oakes 
had  been  deceiving  Maloney — that  the  detective  was 


308  Quintus  Oakes 

still  master  of  himself.  As  the  heavy  body  closed 
upon  him,  Oakes  stepped  suddenly  forward.  His 
left  arm  shot  upward  with  a  vicious,  swinging  mo- 
tion, and  as  his  fist  reached  the  jaw,  his  body  lurched 
forward  and  sideways,  in  a  terrible  muscular  effort, 
carrying  fearful  impetus  to  the  blow. 

Then  instantly,  as  Maloney  staggered,  Oakes 
swung  himself  half  around,  and  the  right  arm  shot 
upward  and  across  to  the  mark,  with  fearful  speed 
and  certainty. 

The  on-rushing  maniac  was  half  stopped  and 
twisted  in  his  course.  His  head  swung  sideways 
and  outward  with  the  last  impact  upon  the  jaw ;  his 
legs  failed  to  lift,  and  with  a  wabbling,  shuddering 
tremor  the  body  sank  to  the  water's  edge.  The 
next  instant  Hallen  came  tumbling  on  to  the  mur- 
derer. I  heard  the  click  of  handcuffs;  I  saw  the 
white  shirt  and  black  trousers  of  Elliott  squirm  up 
the  bank,  and  next  moment  the  vigorous  swimmer, 
the  aristocratic,  great-hearted  clubman,  caught 
Oakes  in  his  arms  as  the  detective  lurched  forward 
and  fell,  momentarily  overcome  by  his  last  supreme 
effort. 


Across  the  Bridge  809 

A  great,  rousing  cheer  reverberated  from  bank  to 
bank  We  took  it  up,  and  sent  it  back  in  lessened 
volume,  but  undiminished  spirit. 

They  now  came  back  from  the  other  side  of  the 
pond  by  the  way  of  the  north  end,  the  men  assisting 
Oakes  carefully  up  the  incline  to  us,  and  bringing 
also  Maloney. 

His  eyes  were  bloodshot — his  features  squirming 
in  horrible  movements;  and  through  it  all  he  talked 
and  talked;  his  brain  was  working  with  great  ra- 
pidity; he  was  shouting,  declaiming,  laughing,  and 
all  the  while  his  sentences  were  without  significance, 
without  lucidity. 

Oakes  pointed  to  the  maniac.  "I  regret  ex- 
tremely," he  said,  "  that  I  was  forced  to  wound  him 
slightly.  I  could  not  let  him  escape  with  that 
weapon  in  his  hand." 

An  approving  murmur  rose  from  the  men,  but 
Oakes  checked  them,  frowning  his  displeasure.  Then 
he  turned  to  Martin: 

" Look  at  his  left  arm,  boys." 

Hallen  and  Martin  ripped  off  the  sleeve,  and  Dowd, 


310  Quintus  Oakes 

after  peering  at  the  arm,  excitedly  exclaimed:  "  The 
blue  cross!     Quintus  Oakes,  you  are  right." 

Yes,  surely,  there  on  the  left  arm,  just  below  the 
shoulder,  was  a  cross  done  by  some  skilled  tattooer's 
hand  in  days  long  past — a  cross  of  indigo. 

Then  in  the  road  a  team  appeared  from  the  Man- 
sion, and  Dowd  jumped  in  and  waved  his  hand  as  he 
started. 

"  Where  are  you  going?"  cried  Ilallen. 

"  To  Mona  to  get  out  an  extra — to  tell  how  Clark, 
Mr.  Clark  of  the  Mansion,  has  captured  the  mur- 
derer, aided  by  Hallen  of  Mona." 

As  the  team  started,  Dowd  yelled  back  again: 
"And  I  am  going  to  tell  Mona  that  Clark  is  QUINTUS 
OAKES." 

Ilallen  waved  his  arms,  while  we  all  again  cheered 
the  name  of  our  friend,  as  we  bore  him  in  triumph 
back  to  the  Mansion. 


CHAPTER 

The  Man  of  the  Hour 

Soon  we  heard  the  tones  of  a  bell  from  far  away 
— one,  two,  three — then  a  pause,  then  a  few  quick 
strokes,  followed  by  a  low,  single  deep  note.  Hal- 
len  answered  our  looks  of  astonishment. 

"  That's  the  old  bell  of  headquarters.  The  Mayor 
promised  to  ring  it,  day  or  night,  when  the  mystery 
was  solved,  and  Dowd  has  carried  the  news." 

Then  again  came  the  deep  tones  in  quicker  rhythm, 
and  we  knew  it  was  all  the  old  bell  could  do  in  the 
way  of  joy. 

"We  scarce  had  time  to  congratulate  Oakes  on  the 
splendid  termination  of  his  work  before  Hallen  was 
away  with  his  men,  taking  Maloney  to  town  by  a 
roundabout  way. 

Then  came  the  crowd  to  besiege  the  Mansion  and 
to  call  for  Oakes,  and  for  Hallen;  in  fact,  for  us 
all.  The  growling  and  discontent  had  vanished; 
the  past  uneasiness  was  gone.  Oakes  and  Hallen 


312  Quintus  Oakes 

were  now  the  heroes  of  Mona.  Oakes  spoke  a  few 
words  of  thanks  to  the  crowd  and  tried  to  dispose  of 
it  by  saying  that  Hallen  had  returned  to  town  with 
the  prisoner;  but  it  lingered  long  before  the  Man- 
sion, discussing  the  successful  termination  of  Mona's 
woes. 

Now  that  a  master  had  unravelled  the  mystery, 
details  were  not  difficult  to  supply.  Many  recalled, 
suddenly,  that  they  had  always  thought  Maloney 
"queer,"  though  they  had  never  considered  as  sig- 
nificant the  points  that  might  have  been  vital.  Such 
is  always  the  case  with  untrained  observers. 

We  made  our  farewells  that  night,  for  we  were  to 
return  to  New  York  next  day;  but  Quintus  kept  the 
hour  of  our  going  private,  for,  as  he  said  to  us,  he 
had  had  too  much  of  the  kindness  of  Mona  already, 
and  there  were  whispers  of  an  ovation  or  something 
of  that  sort  reserved  for  our  departure. 

"You  know,  Stone,"  Oakes  said  to  me,  "we 
really  don't  deserve  all  this  good  feeling;  these 
people  will  never  stop.  I  am  going  to  slip  out 
quietly  to-morrow,  and  you  and  Dr.  Moore  can 
come  later." 


The  Man  of  the  Hour  313 

"Nonsense,"  said  I,  "stay  and  let  them  show 
their  appreciation  of  what  you  have  done.  Why, 
old  man,  you  have  changed  the  course  of  events  in 
Mona — you  cannot  help  being  in  their  minds." 

"You  don't  understand,"  said  he.  "I  dislike 
heroics.  Mona  overestimates  matters.  I  am  going 
away  unexpectedly." 

Here  he  set  his  jaws  hard  and  looked  determined, 
self-reliant,  half-disgusted.  I  knew  that  he  was  in 
earnest  and  that  his  nature  was  calling  once  more  for 
action  and  not  for  praise. 

At  eleven  o'clock  next  morning  Oakes  walked  over 
to  the  police  headquarters,  while  Dr.  Moore  and  I 
remained  in  the  hotel,  casually  watching  him.  He 
was  going  to  make  a  short  call  on  Chief  Hallen,  as 
he  had  frequently  done  before,  and  it  was  to  be  his 
farewell.  He  had  planned  to  have  a  horse  at  the 
proper  moment,  and  to  mount  quickly  and  leave 
for  the  station  alone,  thus  avoiding  notice  and  any 
demonstration. 

Since  we  remained  at  the  hotel,  he  hoped  that 
the  people  would  be  misled  into  thinking  that  he 


314  Quintus  Oakes 

would  return  to  us,  and  that  we  would  all  go  to- 
gether. 

But  for  once  Quintus  Oakes  was  wrong.  Mona 
was  on  the  lookout  for  him,  and  he  had  no  sooner 
gone  into  headquarters  than  some  one  started  the 
rumor  that  the  man  was  going  away  quietly.  In 
a  minute  the  place  was  the  centre  of  a  seething, 
happy,  expectant  crowd.  When  Oakes  finally  ap- 
peared at  the  steps,  instead  of  seeing  his  horse  round- 
ing the  corner  as  he  had  planned,  he  beheld  the 
crowd  in  waiting. 

He  made  a  step  back  to  enter  the  headquarters 
door,  but  Chief  Hallen  laughingly  held  him,  and 
Quintus  Oakes  was  cornered. 

Moore  and  I  were  now  with  the  crowd,  and  joined 
in  the  laugh  at  his  expense.  A  deep  flush  appeared 
on  his  face,  but  we  all  noticed  a  merry  twinkle  in 
his  deep  blue  eyes,  nevertheless. 

Somebody  cried  for  a  speech.  Oakes  hesitated  and 
again  tried  to  retreat,  but  at  that  moment  all  eyes 
were  turned  suddenly  to  a  wagon  coming  down  the 
side  street  and  accompanied  by  a  small  crowd. 

It  turned  into  the  Square  and  a  hush  fell  over  all, 


The  Man  of  the  Hour  315 

for  there  in  the  vehicle  was  Maloney — the  murderer, 
and  an  old  gray-haired  man — Skinner,.  The  mur- 
derer of  Mr.  Mark  was  handcuffed,  and  sat  heavily 
guarded;  but  the  old  man  was  not  a  prisoner — his 
head  was  bowed  in  silent  grief,  as  he  sat  by  Ma- 
loney's  side.  It  was  evident  to  all  that  the  prisoner 
was  being  removed  from  headquarters  to  the  court- 
house for  trial,  and  that  the  father  was  bearing  his 
burden  before  the  world. 

Quintus  Oakes  gave  a  glance  of  pity  at  the  pris- 
oner, and  an  extremely  sorrowful  expression  crossed 
his  strong,  handsome  face  as  he  recognized  the  old 
man  by  Maloney's  side. 

The  populace,  recovering  from  its  surprise  at  sight 
of  the  wagon,  changed  its  mood,  and  surrounded  it 
with  angry  demonstrations,  hissing  and  threatening. 
The  face  of  the  prisoner  was  calm,  proud,  defiant — 
the  face  of  a  man  in  triumphal  entry.  He  was  un- 
conscious of  his  awful  position,  his  awful  crimes. 
He  saw  only  the  notoriety. 

Dr.  Moore  turned  to  me.  "  See  Maloney — see  his 
face;  he  thinks  himself  a  hero — he  is  too  insane  to 
appreciate  the  truth. ' '  But  Skinner  looked  out  upon 


316  Quintus  Oakes 

the  crowd  and  paled;  then  glancing  up,  he  caught 
the  eyes  of  Quintus  Oakes,  and  with  a  harrowing, 
beseeching  expression,  bent  his  gray  head  into  his 
hands. 

The  populace  in  fury  tried  to  stop  the  wagon ;  but 
now,  at  this  instant,  Oakes  rose  to  the  occasion,  and 
the  man  showed  the  mettle  and  the  humanity  that 
was  in  him. 

Rising  to  his  full  height,  he  spoke: 

"  Stop!  This  is  no  time  to  hiss.  Remember,  the 
murderer  is  irresponsible;  the  other  is  his  father — 
an  old,  old  man  !  " 

As  Quintus' s  voice  rang  out  in  its  clear,  strong 
notes,  with  a  marvelously  tender  accent,  and  as 
the  full  meaning  of  his  words  became  apparent,  a 
sudden  silence  seized  the  crowd — a  silence  intense, 
uneasy,  sympathetic.  Quintus  Oakes  was  single- 
handed,  alone,  but  the  master  mind,  the  controlling 
man  among  us  all. 

The  silence  deepened  as  men  glanced  about  with 
ill-concealed  emotion — deep,  suppressed. 

The  w^agon  moved  on,  and  the  stillness  was  broken 


The  Man  of  the  Hour  317 

only  by  the  crunching  of  the  wheels  and  the  occa- 
sional sighing,  heavy  breathing  of  the  populace. 
Over  all  was  the  suspense,  the  quick,  awe-inspiring 
change  from  vicious  hatred  to  pity  and  grief,  blended 
instantly  in^the  hearts  of  all  by  that  strong,  vigorous, 
quick-minded  man  of  action  and  of  justice — OAKES. 

Taking  advantage  of  the  lull,  Quintus  stepped 
into  the  crowd,  and  before  any  could  foresee  his 
purpose,  he  threw  his  coat  over  the  pommel  of  a 
saddled  horse  just  being  led  around  the  corner — his 
horse — and  springing  lightly,  gracefully  to  the  sad- 
dle took  the  reins. 

The  crowd,  divining  his  intent,  closed  about  him, 
but  with  horsemanship  beautiful  to  behold  he  forced 
the  animal  to  canter  to  one  side,  and  then  to  rear, 
making  an  opening  in  the  crowd.  The  next  mo- 
ment he  darted  forward — away — as  the  people, 
realizing  the  tenderness  of  his  speech  and  that  he 
was  leaving  them,  perhaps  for  always,  bellowed  a 
reverberating,  tumultuous  fwrewell. 

Chief  Hallen  shouted  a  hurried  command,  and  the 
next  moment  we  were  all  electrified  to  hear  the  deep 


318  Quintus  Oakes 

tones  of  the  bell  of  headquarters  ringing  out  its  pon- 
derous "God-speed." 

Oakes  turned  in  his  saddle  at  the  first  stroke  and, 
with  blazing  eyes  and  suppressed  pride,  waved  a 
last  vigorous  acknowledgment. 


FINIS. 


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